Eternally Cursed
by The Giant Daifuku
Summary: Co-written with ElTangoDeRoxanne, visit her story "Starstruck Bromance". The story of the immortal, undead Balthier Bunansa when he meets a woman who is almost exactly like him: a woman of the Eternal race who calls herself Lightning Farron.
1. Struck by Lightning

A response to **Tango-chan**'s (**ElTangoDeRoxanne**) story Starstruck Bromance, chapter 3, where her Lightning, an Eternal who was in love with a mortal Balthier in her So Starstruck Series, met Balthier of the World Traveler Series. This is the same story, just told from Bal's point of view. So check it out, and read her So Starstruck Series!

Author's Note: This was originally part of my story "The World Traveller," but when we made this into a full fledged series (we even have a finale planned!) I decided to take the chapters of this story and make it a whole new one. If you are just reading this story for grins, this is a crossover of two crossovers, **The World Traveller Series**, which is the life of the Sky Pirate Balthier starting with a Pirates of the Caribbean crossover (**When Pirate and Pirate Meet**) and **ElTangoDeRoxanne**'s story **Starstruck Bromance**, a Final Fantasy XII and XIII crossover. Visit the **Starstruck Series** starting with **So Starstruck** (lots of Starstrucks!) to get that end of the story.

I don't own anything, at all, recognizable from any story.

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><p>Balthier wiped some oil from his face with the back of his hand, but only managed to smear it across his cheek. The Moogle lying next to him under the <em>Strahl<em>'s engine giggled.

"Master Balthier, you look like a tribal warrior armed with a screwdriver, kupo."

The sky pirate laughed, grabbing the furry creature and liberally wiping oil over its face, too. "Now we are in this tribe together, eh, Leveret?" he asked jokingly. Leveret giggled again, scrubbing his face with white, oil stained paws. He hardly minded his master's cold touch, insulated from it by layers of mechanic's clothes and thick fur.

"Balthier, are you working hard, or hardly working?" Fran called as she knelt from her tall height in order to see under the engine block. Humor danced in her eyes at the sight of two, oil-blacked faces, one furry and one furless, staring back at her. "The new engine and sky stone design will not install itself, you know, and neither will the glossair rings get installed if I do not have help."

"Kupo! Are you ready for your test trip?" Leveret asked excitedly. "Shall we see if we have given the powers of teleportation to an airship?"

"A skystone made from a piece of Gate Crystal, and glossair rings made from artificial waystones… it sounds a little frightening, frankly." Balthier said, putting the last screw in and hauling himself out from under the engine. Fran handed him a handkerchief, which he used to clean his hands and face.

"Not to mention the chance for you to be pulled from this world is quite high." Fran said dryly. Balthier grimaced— if he was pulled away, he did not look forward to the return lecture. "I will go install the rings with Leveret. You shall run the tests on the engine," she instructed. Balthier gave her a mock salute before climbing the stairs into the ship and entering the cockpit. Through the windows, he could see Fran and Leveret maneuvering the new rings into position with the help of a large mechanical harness dangling from the ceiling. Turning back to the control panel in front of him, he flicked glossair ring switch off, and turned the engine on. Readings immediately filled the screen in front of him, all registering stable as he ran the power higher and higher. ALL POWER OUTPUTS STABLE, the monitor flashed. Balthier turned the engine back off, sitting back in his seat and allowing a contented sigh to escape from his lips.

"Wake up, Balthier. Wouldn't want to miss the first airship teleportation in history," Vaan said. Balthier opened his eyes to look at the hallucination. Vaan had been dead for roughly three centuries, yet his ghost still haunted Ivalice. Fran said nothing was there, it was all in his head, but what did she know? She always chased the ghosts away, of course she'd never see them.

"It might end in a fiery crash," Balthier pointed out. Vaan snorted, propping his feet up on the dashboard.

"Or it might end in a teleportation. Either way, you won't die, 'cuz of your complication. You've gotten really pessimistic in your old age," he said.

"Disintegration is the same as death. If this medallion gets broken, even if Fran lives, my soul will pass on anyway."

"What if I broke it in half? Would that break your soul into two halves, and then there would be two Balthiers running around?" Vaan leaned forward, and Balthier pressed a protective hand over the medallion in his chest.

"You shan't touch it," he growled, though there was no anger in his words.

Long brown fingers cupped his face, and Fran's palms burned his skin with living heat. He closed his eyes, enjoying the moment, and when he opened them, Vaan was gone.

"It is time," Fran whispered, taking her place next to him in the co-pilot's chair. Leveret hovered next to her ear, at last plopping down on her head.

"You make it sound as if we were going to our deaths, not as if we were taking a quick jaunt to Archades." Balthier smiled wryly.

"You never know in the vocation of science!" Leveret chirped. "Fire away, kupo!" Like a moth, the _Strahl_ lifted into the sky.

Balthier tuned the teleportation mechanism to the Gate Crystal in Archades, watching the oscillations slowly match on the newly installed Mist scope. When the light on the jump button turned green, he pressed it. At that moment, all hell broke loose.

Smoke erupted into the corridor with an ear-shattering bang. "Check the engine!" Fran shouted to Balthier. "Leveret, co-pilot for me."

"Kupo-kupo-kupo-po!" Leveret squeaked, grabbing the secondary control stick as the Viera lunged across to the first. Balthier staggered down the hall into the engine room, ducking low to avoid the oily black smoke belching out of the machine.

The engine was in flames. A small, blue crystal rolled out from underneath, clinking against Balthier's boot. He picked it up, recognizing the small stone instantly: the source of all his problems.

"Nethicite…" he breathed. "Sabotage!"

Balthier burst into the cockpit, the stone clutched in his hand. "Fran, re-stabilize power, we've been…" the words died in his throat. The cockpit was empty, and even Leveret was gone. Cursing, Balthier grabbed the control stick, attempting to regain control of the ship, but it had gone into a corkscrew, plummeting toward the forest below.

Forest?

Before he could contemplate the strange fact that somehow, there was a densely wooded forest somewhere between Balfonheim and Archades, the _Strahl_ crashed into the ground. Metal twisted and shrapnel flew into the air. A metal panel spun by his head, gouging a long gash across Balthier's forehead as it flew by. Cold blood ran down his face, dripping from his chin. When the rumbling and shaking stopped, he got to his feet, woozily making his way to the still burning engine room, and cast Water onto the fire. Balthier staggered to the airlock, somehow opened the door, and stared out at the wood surrounding him. He attempted to take a step down, but weak with blood-loss, he missed the first step and staggered, clutching the rail like a lifeline. His head pounded, and he pressed a hand to his bleeding forehead.

As soon as he reached the ground, he lost his footing, his foot slipping in the mud thrown up from the airship crash. Balthier closed his eyes, expecting to hit the ground face first, but was pleasantly surprised when someone caught him, lowering him gently to the ground. Someone was leaning over him, whispering his name, stroking fingers that were almost soothing in the fact that they were not overly warm against his cheek. He cracked open an eye, studying the woman holding him.

She had blonde hair and silvery blue eyes, and her hair was dripping cold water onto his face. The woman was clutching him convulsively, staring into his face with desperate hope and faint joy chasing across her expression. She certainly was acting as if she were familiar with him. Balthier attempted to gather his thoughts, which felt as if they were spilling out of the hole gouged in his head. When the woman looked away, up at the _Strahl_, Balthier quickly pushed her from him.

"Fran," he tried to stand, but coughed. Too much smoke inhalation… "I need to find her…" he managed to say, while his thin frame was wracked by another coughing fit. The woman grabbed his arm, scowling.

"Balthier, sit still!" she commanded, and he tensed, eyeing her warily as she grabbed his arm firmly. "Just stay put, _please_. Let me heal you, okay?" She knew his name. All right, so perhaps his reputation preceded him, but this woman was acting as if she more than just knew his name.

"You know me?" Balthier asked, swallowing his uncertainty. His tattered voice came out raspy and thin, and he nearly strangled himself trying to hold down another painful cough. When he finally managed to look into her piercing blue eyes, he was startled to see concern. Oh dear, perhaps she knew him quite well if she was worried. Unfortunately, he had no idea who _she_ was!

"Know you? Of course I know who you are, Balthier. It's me—Lightning," the woman, who he now knew as Lightning, tightened her grip when he tried to pull away from her. Panic thrilled through his veins as she continued. "Sure, I look slightly different than before, being blonde and slightly paler, but I'm still me." Balthier was utterly certain he had never seen this woman before. He had to admit there was a certain cold beauty to her— had to admit that with a face like that, he would have remembered.

"I can't recall ever knowing someone with that name," he said at last. The woman's grip loosened, and he slipped out of her grasp easily, stretching. Her eyes flickered, and he could almost feel her desperation. Balthier gingerly touched a hand to his forehead, which had healed while he was attempting to disentangle himself from this exceedingly strange girl.

"You must have hit your head in the crash, Balthier," she faltered. She certainly liked to say his name, didn't she? Was she constantly trying to remind him she knew him, and supposedly he knew her? Well, whatever she was doing, it was only serving to make him annoyed. What was her name again? It was some sort of meteorological condition… Snow? Ice? Something with storms… Tornado? No, he was kidding himself now.

"Listen, Thunder," he finally snapped, choosing the closest thing he could remember her name being. Behind him, Vaan and Penelo's ghosts sniggered. He forced himself to ignore their chiming laughs. "Do not think you can fool me with pretty words. A trick to finally end me after all this time, is that it? Don't play me for a fool, girl, or you'll end up making one of yourself."

Thunder (or was it Lightning?) bit her lip, her expression one of a girl who'd just been slapped. He turned away from her hurt face, opting to reenter the _Strahl_ and perhaps find out if Fran had followed him on his newest venture. At first, Lightning followed him into the ship, but sometime in the interim, he heard her go back outside when he paid her no heed.

"Fran?" he called, poking about here and there but not finding his partner anywhere. "Alright, you've got me. Where is she?" Balthier scowled at Lightning, who was waiting patiently outside. At his question, she frowned in confusion.

"Balthier, Fran's been dead for years. Everyone's gone. Even—even you. You're not supposed to be here," she said quietly, as if divulging a secret.

Balthier wanted to laugh madly, and clenched his hands together instead, feeling the creases in his leather gloves biting into his skin. Still alive, still can feel, still _breathing_, still talking, still walking, still _hungry_—

"That's impossible. If Fran was dead, I would also die on the spot. I'm still here, so she's alive as well. You're talking madness, Thunder." He purposefully used the wrong name that time. Lightning averted her eyes.

"It's Lightning," was all she said.

"Well, _Lightning_," he narrowed his eyes shrewdly, calculatingly. "I know this is Ivalice. The scent hasn't changed enough that I can't recognize home, but there's something… off. What year is this, and where are we?" Lightning did not answer right away, clenching and unclenching her hands around the hilt of her Ragnarok blade.

"It's the year two-thousand, Old Valendian," she licked her lips with a dry tongue. "This is what remains of your old home, Balthier. This is Archadia." Lightning quickly looked away, somewhere to the right. There was someone there, muttering, muttering about Gil and time.

_The teleportation… worked after all…_ Balthier sank to his knees very slowly, reality and the strain of time travel catching up with him, and darkness swirled up to greet him like an old friend.

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><p>Balthier woke up in his own bed, feeling as if he had just been bathing in Dark magick. He felt healthier, at least. Lightning was standing next to his chest of drawers, her arms folded over her chest and her face tight, eyes burning with something he did not like seeing. As soon as their gazes met, she dropped hers to the floor, as if afraid to meet his eyes. A quick glance in his mirror confirmed that his eyes were <em>not<em> the silver color brought on by the Hunger, but their usual woody brown.

"If you're going to stare at an old man, you should at least give him some warning." Balthier said lightly, propping himself up on his elbows. "And perhaps do that if you're going to spring other surprising news on me."

"Old man?" she whispered. Ah-ha, perhaps this would get rid of her, then, and leave him in peace!

"I'm older than I look. Thank our dearest gods for that." He could not stop the biting tone his voice took on when mentioning the gods.

"How old are you, then?"

"Three-hundred-forty-seven years, and still counting. I don't intend on being shuffled from the mortal coil—not ever." Balthier said with a cruel smirk, masking his disappointment of the fact that Lightning, while perhaps a little surprised, looked mostly bored. However, her scent changed subtly, such that he almost missed it, and her fingers tightened ever so slightly about her arms. For a moment, he could almost imagine how she would look if he were to split open her perfect, white skin.

"That medallion: it's what keeps you alive, isn't it?" she asked, nodding toward the glint of gold in his chest. Almost out of habit, he shifted on the bed so that the cloth of his shirt obscured the gleam.

"You're brighter than I expected. This trinket keeps my life from ending, but Fran holds me in place on the mortal plane. If it was not for her generosity, I would be little more than a moldering corpse in the ground by now."

"If you are three-hundred-fifty, that would make Fran roughly one-hundred years older than you. Viera die before reaching that age— how can she still be alive?"

His mind scrambled for a possible explanation of how she knew Fran.

"It's a long story…" he said, trying to buy time. Was she a bounty hunter after his head? Interrogating him for the secret to immortality before taking his head? Should he run? Or should he… remove her? He told the story with light hearted nonchalance, while panic screamed behind his eyes.

"Eternity is not meant for humans," Lightning interrupted his thoughts. She spoke with the air of someone with long, tiring experience.

"What makes you think I'm human?" he retorted, tossing her another sharp-toothed smirk. She closed her eyes and did not answer. This girl had no sense of how to appreciate a story. "You know me, you say, or perhaps someone like me. I've never met you, though I've met a few women who rival that glare of yours," he said gently, trying a different angle.

"Ashe?" she said simply.

"She's one of them," he replied, drumming a fine military tattoo on his chin with his fingers. _She knew the Princess, who has passed… it's been a thousand years…_ a devilish smirk crawled its way across his face again, unbidden. "You're more than you appear to be too, hm, Thunder?"

His question set her off-kilter. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said icily. Balthier tapped his nose knowingly.

"You've got the scent of the gods upon you. How did you happen to acquire immortality? You don't have the look of a thief, but that greatsword speaks of little innocence either. And don't lie, my dear. You're a dreadful liar," he purred.

"I died when I was twenty-three, killed by the Trickster Lindzei. You—I mean, the Balthier I knew made a deal with the goddess Etro and brought me back to life. Only…" she trailed off, as if the subject pained her.

"He died not long after?" he said what she could not, not particularly perturbed by the death of his other self.

"Yes. You weren't even fifty…"

"So that would make you an undead, I suppose. We've a lot in common after all, Lightning," he said, this time giving her a genuine smile.

"Call me Light." Still, she refused to look at him.

It was a shame she could not see his smile.

* * *

><p>Lightning sat on a stool nearby as Balthier repaired the <em>Strahl<em>, seemingly content simply to watch him work. She was not a woman of particularly many words, but she enjoyed talking to him immensely, as if saying his name and having him respond to it was the greatest joy in her life. He was not sorry to admit that she was starting to grow on him; not many other people understood the pain of day to day living as an undead. Oh, the irony. Her mentor, Cidolfus, was a kind, silly old man, but he cared for her very well, and they shared a strong spiritual bond. Watching them spar one night, Balthier was surprised by how easily the old man over powered the immortal girl, teasing her of her ways with the sword. Balthier himself fared only a little better, in the end winning only because of the long endurance granted by death.

"If you were not a phoenix… like my dear phoenix… I would have cut you down." Cidolfus puffed, collapsing onto a log. Balthier exhaled deeply, glancing over and grinning at Lightning, who awarded him with a tiny smile.

"I am glad I am a phoenix, then," he said, sheathing his ninja sword and picking up Fomalhaut. Lightning watched him polish it almost hungrily; he assumed that his other self must have done things very similarly. When Cidolfus went to sleep, she would join him on the roof of the _Strahl_ to talk about days long past and her many adventures, and when the sun shone its first ray over the horizon, she would still be there, sitting next to him.

She told him of Pulse, and Cocoon, and the Fal'Cie gods that ruled over the worlds. She often spoke of the other Balthier, with a longing glint in her eye, though as soon as she looked toward him (but not toward his now moon-bright silver eyes), the glint would fade, if only slightly. When she told him of his possession by Ragnarok, Balthier laughed.

"I do not think that fur and claws particularly suit me," he said, eliciting a quiet laugh from the apprentice knight.

"No, but you were a very fine Ragnarok," she replied.

"Sometimes, you remind me of a girl I knew named Alice. She was a very sweet little thing... pushed me into a pond once, if I remember." Balthier did not think that he had ever enjoyed repairing the _Strahl_ quite so much, as he told her his stories. With Lightning there, he was never alone— she did not need to sleep, like Fran did.

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><p>The next day, Balthier started working on the engine, the last part of the ship that needed fixing before he could leave. He lie under the engine, hands busy with replacing gears and bolts and various other damaged paraphernalia, while Lightning sat at her usual spot like a sentinel. She was deep in thought, her eyes downcast and her knees tucked under her chin. Balthier did not interrupt her, but when the silence dragged on, Ashe's ghost urged him to speak to her. He peeped out from under the engine. Lightning seemed… sad. Sadder than usual.<p>

"You're awfully quite today. Something wrong?" he asked.

"No," she shook her head, as if rousing herself. "Cid's getting impatient, that's all. We were supposed to be hunting."

"Why don't you join him? That might cheer you up."

"I'm watching over you."

"What makes you think I need watching over? Afraid the engine might fall on me and crush me or something like that? Or… is it that you're afraid that I'll try to leave without saying goodbye? If I promise to stay around a while longer, would you go help your old man and stop his complaining?" he asked.

"I don't think you're the type to keep promises." Lightning answered.

"Sorry, love, but I'm not the other me. If he kept promises, I don't know, but I do not. However, just this once, I might change." With a nonchalant hand, he waved in a shooing gesture. "Off you go, wouldn't want old Cid to become jealous now, do we?" Balthier tilted his head back to look at her, but just as he expected, her blue eyes quickly darted away. He chewed his lip, disappointed.

A new smell wafted over him then, pungent and cloying. He would recognize that smell anywhere…

When the white, hyena like beast crashed into the clearing, hot on Cidolfus's heels, Lightning jumped to her feet and ran outside the airship, snagging her greatsword from its spot by the door, taking the stairs two at a time. Balthier dragged himself from under the engine, reaching for Fomalhaut and cursing heartily at the same time. He was bloody _tired_ of meeting Bandersnatch!

"I can't escape the past, or it can't stop chasing me. Locking myself in my room is starting to sound rather appealing," he muttered.

"Just follow my lead!" Lightning called, bounding across the dewy grass like a gazelle. Fearlessly, she faced down the beast, her flowing golden hair reminding Balthier horribly of Alice, her sword at the ready. When it swatted at her, she dodged by a hair's breadth, climbing the beast's foreleg and balancing on its humped back. The Bandersnatch yowled in rage, twisting in an attempt to throw her balance off and knock her down, but before it could succeed, Balthier jumped between the whirling paws and ripped out a hank of its fur. It was incredibly stupid, he knew, and he also knew better than anyone what a Bandersnatch's claws could do. Dodging another swipe, he managed to dance backward out of the way, just as Lightning's Ragnarok blade pierced the monster's neck. It collapsed seconds later, and she slid from its back, sighing mockingly.

"The thing's dead, happy now?" Lightning asked. "The reward had better be good."

"Did you pick that up from the other Balthier?" Balthier teased, and Lightning pursed her lips.

"Perhaps."

Cidolfus whistled, examining a glowing stone between the Bandersnatch's teeth. "That is some treasure, to be sure. Please get it, my phoenix." Balthier helped lift the beast's heavy jaw while Lightning prized the crystal free and held it out for them to see. It was a small orange crystal, bright with its own arcane light and glittering with shining Bandersnatch saliva.

"A Teleport Stone," Balthier hummed. "They used those to send humes around Ivalice back in the day, though Fran and I have tried to grant ships the same luxury. What was that fiend doing with it, I wonder…"

"It used to live on Gran Pulse," Lightning replied, studying the stone in her hands. "You mentioned that it was in Underland too, didn't you, Balthier?"

"This Ivalice has—er, _had_ one as well. It is likely my Ivalice probably has its own. I do not fancy going toe to toe with this thing again." he shivered, his old scars twinging. Lightning finally looked up from her contemplation of the stone, though she fixed her eyes on Cidolfus rather than the surprised expression that danced over Balthier's face.

"Take it. If you put it in your trip, you will be able to return to your Ivalice. Fran is waiting, I am sure," she said quickly.

Balthier clasped his hands over it, feeling the warm energy leaking off it. Fran would be very angry with him this time, though she would likely be angry with herself for letting him do such folly that got him teleported in the first place. "Yes, you're right. I am not looking forward to seeing her reaction after leaving her again for the thousandth time, but it is better than leaving her forever."

Lightning turned away quickly as if angered by his response. Balthier immediately kicked himself for being so insensitive— it had probably been a hard decision for her to make, losing him (for her) again.

* * *

><p>Balthier set the Teleport Stone in the glossair rings, watching as the lights on the <em>Strahl <em>began to shine. Lightning watched the ship glow, but quickly looked down when he approached. His smirk faded a little.

"Some thanks are in order," he said. "If you hadn't found me, I would be in a much more… well, not very good state. As worse as our kind can get, if you know what I mean." Balthier bowed to her, a wry smile on his face. He had not really told her of the Madness, or spoke much of the Hunger, but somehow, he knew she understood.

"Sometimes, it means there is nothing wrong," Lightning replied. "You're welcome. I hope Fran will go easy on you for disappearing again."

Balthier looked toward the ground, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "I'm sure it will happen again, in one century or another. Always does."

Lightning went back to watching the _Strahl_ hum, longing reflected in her eyes. Balthier took her hand, marveling at how _good_ it felt not to be burned by touching another human being. He pressed his lips to her fingertips with a small smile. Her eyes locked onto his hands, but still, she refused to meet his eyes. Why?

"Fran would say the gods are smiling upon us right now. They must have willed me to you." He said softly. Lightning tugged her hand from his, though she rolled her eyes, always avoiding his own.

"Save the sweet-talk for her, not me."

"Hm… I regret that I am not the one you've been mourning all these years, but no need to suddenly be cold with me during my departure." Balthier said, feigning hurt.

Lightning glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes, while Cid chuckled quietly.

"She is just being herself. I am sad to say that my phoenix is not as warm as her name implies," he commented.

"You should go, or we will still be standing here after the sun rises on the morrow." Lightning shook her head. "The night draws short."

"Oh Light," Balthier laughed as he climbed the stairs to enter the ship. "You should know that there is no Night for our kind… or at least, not for mine." Seeing her standing there, all alone, made him strangely sad, no matter how much he laughed it off. Lightning could stand there for eternity, for all he knew, even when Cid had turned into only dust on the wind, there she would stand until the end of time. The gift of Immortality— ever and always, ironically a curse. As he watched her, she finally lifted her eyes to meet his. They were breath-taking— he knew they would be, but it was different to actually see… Her eyes were so very, very sad.

"You could come with me, you know," he said quietly. "You'd make a good sky pirate."

Lightning forced a smile that only made her eyes look sadder. "I'm all right here. Cid would not be happy if his apprentice ran off with a pirate."

"He's like an older Vossler," the ghost of Vaan noted, and Balthier's eyes drifted toward him. "Vossler likely was not happy when Ashe ran off with us, for sure."

"Yes… that seems likely." Balthier murmured. "I hope you find the other Balthier one day, Light. If the Fates will it, perhaps we will meet again…"

She did not answer, she only stared at him with those sad, sad eyes. Eyes that the ghosts flocked to, not ran away from. He would never be alone when Lightning was around. Not ever.

The_ Strahl_ was rising, higher and higher, and the energy levels were rising too. When he punched the overdrive button, he found himself drifting over Archades, in the year one-thousand-thirty-one. Gently descending through the clouds and into the aerodrome, he was met by a very distraught Fran and a hysterical Leveret.

One hour later, Balthier sank into his bed, listening as the lock clicked in the door. He could hear Fran's heels clacking away, and the sound of the key being put… somewhere.

"Sorry, Light," he murmured. "Looks like I wasn't so lucky."


	2. Stormy Return

I know I should have worked on _Sands_ but I could not stop thinking about this! This is the sequel to "Struck by Lightning" which is a crossover with **Tango-chan_'s _**_So Starstruck_ series. Thanks for the inspiration, **ElTangoDeRoxanne**. Thanks for reviewing, **emeraldonyxdragon**! I did not focus overly much on Lightning and Mustadio because that is **Tango-chan's** story to tell, if she so chooses it.

* * *

><p>Balthier did not know what music he and Fran were dancing to, alone in a dark, Archadian alley; all he knew was that they had rehearsed this piece many, many times. His left hand rested light as a feather on Fran's waist, and his right clasped her own hand tight near his shoulder. This silent waltz was always a little difficult because she was taller than he was. At just the right moment, while she whirls perfectly under his arm in a spin, he lifts himself onto his toes to gain enough height so that her ears will clear his arm. Today, Fran breaks the silence first as he pulls her close again.<p>

"You are lucky you were not injured badly enough that you went on a rampage," she said, referring to his most recent journey through time. It had been almost fifty years to that day. "It was just a flesh wound that the shrapnel dealt to your head. However, I do not know what wild thoughts go through that strange head of yours anymore… As far as I know, you are always hungry." Balthier gave a black velvet chuckle, nipping playfully at her neck.

"Head wounds bleed profusely because the vessels are close to the surface, but I wasn't that worried, Fran," he hummed. "I'm sure Lightning would have stopped me; apparently she was responsible for keeping the beast at bay when the other me harbored the mad god Ragnarok within him. Besides, the word _rampage_ is so unfashionable, darling," his voice dropped into a luxurious purr.

"Oh?"

"I prefer temporary loss of bodily control and mental stability."

"I fail to see the difference." Fran tossed her head like an irate warhorse, flinging her white mane of spiders' silk tresses over her shoulder. "I am rather doubtful this Lightning would have found the courage to give you enough harm to make you stop." Balthier raised his eyebrows.

"I am afraid I fail to grasp your meaning."

"You may not be her lost love, but you are exactly in his image and mostly of the same disposition. After all, he was that world's version of you. Whether she knew you are an undead incapable of being killed or not, she would have died herself before raising her sword against you." Fran explained. Balthier lifted his hand from her waist as she whirled again, allowing her to stretch her arms like a bird about to take flight.

"I found myself distinctly under the impression she was afraid of me and found me dishonest. Not that I am denying the latter statement…" Fran slid back into his arms, and could not stop from shivering slightly as he wrapped his cold arms around her.

"Balthier, we have known each other for some time now, yes? Over three centuries, correct?" she asked, looking down at him.

"I'm three-hundred-ninety-seven now, Fran, and I am pretty sure you are about to hit the half-millennia yourself."

"Yes… the point is that we are this old, and have been so close for this long, and I still cannot find a way to peacefully stop you without offering you my own blood. If I recall, offering you Baknamy was an awful idea."

Balthier shuddered, making a face. "I think I purged for hours after that. Call it an allergic reaction, if you will. Not to mention, it tasted terrible—I didn't know things could taste that bad."

Shouts outside the alley, the sound of pounding feet on stone bounced off the walls. "In there, he's in there!" Harsh voices, shadows racing ahead of their owners like hungry dogs.

"Off you go, Fran—the performance is about to begin. The 'finale' to the charade of our lives as bounty hunters for hire. What shall we be next? I rather fancied it when we were sky pirates, you know." Balthier said, smiling.

"Sky pirates it is, then. I shall see you soon." Fran slipped out of his arms and away into the shadows just as the first man rounded the bend.

* * *

><p>"Balthier Bunansa, you are held responsible today for the wanton slaying of numerous humes in Ivalice and the theft of the belongings of several persons of importance," a rather dry stick of a man read the sentence in a thin, reedy voice. "Despite your acts as a bounty hunter working to rid Ivalice of men who are a danger to us, you have committed many heinous acts, including counterfeiting and posing as men of the law, in the name of your work."<p>

"Ba'Gamnan is an excellent model," Balthier said, smirking. The man jumped and looked affronted at the interruption.

"The penalty for all is death; on this day, one-thousand-eighty-one, old Valendian, you are to hang from the neck until dead." The man rolled up his scroll and turned to the executioner, a rather big brute of a man with a black hood over his face. "Please, do the honors, Master Carrow."

The rope was actually very itchy, and Balthier wished he had his high collar shirt on; unfortunately, they did not let you wear those particular kinds of clothes to hangings. He could feel it tightening around his neck, the fibers scratching against the skin at the pit of his throat. They thought he would dance a merry jig for them, his feet kicking as he fought for breath and his neck snapped like charred wood, but no—they did not know it, but he was used to this game. Balthier stood on the trapdoor proudly, raising his head to scan the crowd, picking out people he knew. There were two people standing just in the shadows of a nearby awning in the town square. One was a woman, with long hair that seemed to be faded blonde and pink. _Pink! _He scoffed mentally. He could not see her face for the shadow on the awning. There was someone else with her, someone just a little shorter, but he wore a long travelling cloak with a hood. Fran was nowhere to be found. He smiled, closing his eyes.

There was a rumbling groan and the trapdoor dropped out from under him. There was a gut wrenching drop, and a brief scream of air whistling past his ears. The crowd gasped, some cheered, others screamed. With a sickening crack, he knew no more.

Balthier Bunansa dangled from the gallows like a marionette with cut strings, but he never stopped smiling!

* * *

><p>Fran marched up the snow-covered hill to the prison cemetery, a spade over her shoulder. They hadn't really planned on the villagers (a rather superstitious lot) giving Balthier a decent burial. "If ye don' take care o' tha' body, 'is ghost is gonna come back an' 'aunt us," the undertaker said, nailing the coffin shut. The pirate's vacation plans to the Bhujerban Engineering Exhibition had to be put off for a day or two while Fran came up with a remedy to the situation. No doubt, when Balthier woke up from his death trance, he would be very confused as to why it was so dark and why he was in such a tiny, enclosed space. She pitied the claustrophobic sky pirate.<p>

It was very cold, and Fran shivered, shaking a few snowflakes from her ears. Perusing the gravestones, she came to the most recent one. The headstone was simple—not even a stone, really, just a wooden board with Balthier's name crudely scratched into it. She froze; there were two people standing over the grave. The woman, a fine-featured thing dressed in vermillion, turned toward her, studying her with wide, ice blue eyes.

"Fran?" she asked. Fran flicked an ear, the only sign she acknowledged the girl. The woman had pink-blond hair, as if the blonde coloring was fading out. However, she recognized the girl as the person Balthier described.

"You are the woman called Lightning." Fran said simply. Lightning nodded, smiling faintly.

"I feared you were dead when Balthier did not rise," she continued tentatively. "He mentioned your lives were tied together. It is good to see you again."

"I am not the Fran you know," Fran said gently, and Lightning's smile, already small, almost vanished. "Balthier must have trusted you very much if he parted with that information," Fran continued as she began to dig. The snow parted easily under the shovel's metal head, but soon, she hit the frozen soil beneath. Lightning remained silent, simply watching as Fran dug on. "You have yet to introduce your companion," Fran said eventually. Lightning's eyes darted toward her hooded partner, before nodding imperceptibly. The man raised his hands and lowered his hood.

"This is Mustadio… Mustadio Bunansa," she said quietly. Fran stopped digging and leaned ever so slightly on the shovel. The boy looked every inch like Balthier when he was younger, but for his long ponytail. Fran was certain Balthier would die before letting his own hair grow that long. She was also certain he would die if he found out that in the future, he had children. Come to think of it, he was already _dead_… did _that_ even work anymore? Fran shook her head, snow falling from her hair. That was a thought that need not to be dwelled upon.

"Related to Balthier in your Ivalice, I presume?" she asked. Lightning nodded, while Mustadio watched Fran continue digging with the most fascinated look on his face.

The ground really was very hard, and the villagers really did bury her partner's body very deep. Fran's arms protested as she lifted the shovel again, but Lightning took the shovel from her. "Allow me," she said. The Viera did not argue, but simply handed the tool over as Lightning took over. Fran glanced toward Mustadio with incurious eyes, and was not startled to find his eyes glued to her ears. "Mustadio, stop staring," Lightning commanded. "You've seen Mydia before." The boy jumped guiltily.

"I'm sorry. There's not very many Viera where I come from, that is all," he said.

"That is what Balthier asked Vaan, eons ago," Fran said, at last smiling thinly. Mustadio seemed relieved, as if her smile melted all the ice and snow surrounding them.

Lightning's shovel hit the wooden lid on the coffin below, just as a hand burst through. The pink-haired woman wasted no time in demolishing the lid, and Balthier sat up quickly, gasping, before looking up at them from the bottom of the hole.

"Lightning?" he asked incredulously. "How did you get here?"

"Mustadio and his father discovered a machine that is able to send people across space, so why not across time?" Lightning shrugged as she grasped his hand and pulled him from the grave. Fran idly tossed him his usual white shirt and brocade vest, which he snagged and changed into. He could not stop but notice the way that Lightning looked at it almost longingly, her hands curling into fists.

"Mustadio?" Balthier raised an eyebrow, turning toward the young machinist. Instantly, his smirk descended into a look of guarded caution. "And where, pray tell, did you pick up this pup?"

Mustadio flinched visibly, and Lightning took his hand. "He is no stray dog," she snapped. "The Balthier I knew handled the first meeting much better than you."

Balthier hissed, cat like, baring his sharp teeth. "In case you have not noticed, I'm not the other me." Lightning purposefully moved between Mustadio and Balthier, while Fran placed a hand on her partner's shoulder. "Why did you bring him here, Lightning? To taunt me? You were so cold to me when we met, but this… even this seems beneath you!" Lightning recoiled, but did not back down a step. Her hand fell to a strange sword at her hip that was like a rifle and a sword put together.

"You are lowering yourself, Balthier," Fran said quietly. "This is not how you usually are." The sky pirate took several breaths, seeking the calm that he never really ever had.

"I suppose introductions are in order, then," he said brusquely, holding out his bare hand. Mustadio tentatively slid out from behind Lightning and shook it, frowning.

"You're like Lightning," he said.

"You didn't figure that out from my execution and subsequent rise from the grave?" Balthier asked, turning away and stalking down the hill. Fran sighed, her breath hanging in the air like pearly smoke.

"I am sorry, Lightning. You have come all this way only to find disappointment. My partner does not take surprises particularly well nowadays."

Lightning shook her head. "It is alright, I guess," she said. "I understand he is different from the Balthier that I…" she stopped, skipping the word as if it was too painful to say and moving on. "I just did not think he would be so opposed to this."

"Come, we should away this place; Balthier like as not has gone to the _Strahl_, and we can go to Tchita where we will be less sought." Fran said comfortingly.

"I'm causing you so much trouble, Lightning," Mustadio said sadly as they sat by a campfire in the Tchita uplands. Balthier had slipped away into the night, silent as a ghost, leaving Fran alone with Lightning and Mustadio. "Perhaps I should just go. I'll come back to pick you up in a few days—Or, I would if the controller for the time travel device was not broken."

"No," Lightning said quickly, then blushed faintly. "You are no chauffeur between worlds for me, Mustadio. Even if Balthier is angry, I would not send you away." Fran stifled a low laugh as she stirred a pot of stew simmering over the fire.

"You are not as he said," she said after a while. "He called you a lost Chocobo wandering Ivalice in search of something to fill your empty heart."

"He said that, did he?" a twisted smile pulled at Lightning's lips. "I did not know I came across as such. True, I wept over Balthier's grave for a thousand years before my mentor, Cidolphus, found me and gave me another reason to continue…existing, but when we met, I was not _lost_."

"I can't imagine Light looking like a lost chocobo," Mustadio laughed. "Lightning always leads the way!"

"That is for sure," Balthier said, emerging from the night with a small hide bag in his hands and perching next to Fran. "When the Bandersnatch arrived, you did not hesitate to go for a ride, eh, Thunder?" He smirked, while Lightning flushed.

"That was not the way of it," she said to Mustadio in a low voice, but still, Mustadio viewed her with a new look of wonder, while all the while, glancing back toward the Hume sky pirate with wide eyes.

That night, after Mustadio had gone to sleep, Balthier turned to Fran, a livid expression on his face.

"_I cannot bring myself to accept that whelp,_" he snarled in Vieran, his voice almost like that of an angry couerl. "_I wandered away, hoping to find solace and the will to take him into my heart, but I could not. Everything I worked for—everything! Gone! I do not have children because I do not want them to follow in my footsteps!_" His eyes were nearly glowing silver with his rage.

"_Peace, dear partner. The boy comes from a different world; it may not be the same for us. Do you not see? Lightning is happy to have him. She is a lost Chocobo no longer. And if the child exists, that means you have not been loyal to me, either."_ Fran said slyly.

"_Tch._" Balthier rolled his eyes, and in doing so, caught sight of Lightning watching. In an instant, he knew she had understood, as soon as she looked away from him, her eyes hard. "There's just no privacy with her around, is there?" he asked miserably.

"Let us go on a hunt tomorrow," Fran said. "It will distract you and ease your mind, as well as Lightning's. Fafnir wanders the Paramina Rift 'gain."

Balthier snorted, climbing the rope ladder to re-enter the _Strahl_, and Fran turned back to the fire. Lightning approached her slowly, sitting in the spot Balthier vacated.

"He left something," she murmured, handing Fran the small pack Balthier left on the log next to her.

"Aye," the Viera agreed, "But it was purposeful. I believe he meant you to have it."

"I do not need potions, elixirs, or anything of the like," Lightning said dubiously, peering into the bag.

"Then they are for Mustadio," Fran said finally, glancing toward the sleeping boy. "He does care, in his own strange way. I think he was just shocked that there were still Bunansa offspring in Ivalice; he does not want anyone to know what happened between him and his father, and he certainly does not want that to happen between him and any offspring."

"That is logical," Lightning said softly, her hands busy shining her gunblade. "Balthier came back, eventually, in my world as well… he left later, but he did not deny Mustadio as a relative. Though, if Ramza dared call him 'grandfather'…" she let the sentence hang, while Fran smiled.

"My partner would have been no different."

* * *

><p>Mustadio clung to Lightning as she led the way through the Paramina Rift, sure of the location of Fafnir. Balthier smiled indulgently; she <em>was<em> from Ivalice's future, of course, so of course she'd know where everything was.

Fafnir was as imposing as ever, his scarred body standing out against the snow despite his white coloring. Mustadio put on a show of bravery, puffing his thin chest out.

"He's smaller than Yiazmat! Let's get it, Light!" he yelled, but Balthier could _smell_ his fear, rising like a wave from his body. Even if she could not sense it the same way he could, Lightning apparently knew of the farce.

"Stay behind me, Mustadio," she ordered, naturally taking charge. "Back us up with your gunfire. Balthier and I will worry the beast from close quarters."

"_Worry_ it?" Balthier raised his eyebrows. "I would hope we could do more than that."

"Follow my lead," Lightning snapped, cutting of all arguments and dashing for the monster. She dodged its claws as if she knew what was coming next, ducking under the swipe of a shattered horn. Mustadio managed to shoot the dragon in the face before it could snap her to pieces within its jaws. Unfortunately, that made the monster turn to the young machinist. Before they could move, Fafnir was lumbering toward Mustadio, who seemed frozen in place.

"Dear gods, boy, what are you doing? _Move!_" Balthier shouted, pushing Mustadio away as Fafnir gouged a long cut from his left shoulder to halfway across his chest. He collapsed into the snow, clutching the wound.

"Balthier? W-why?" Mustadio was on his knees next to him, not caring that his hands were rapidly being coated in gloves of sticky, black blood. The sky pirate coughed weakly, managing a tiny smile.

"Light likes you," he said simply, shrugging his shoulder and wincing as more blood poured from his wound. Lightning and Fran quickly helped Mustadio drag Balthier behind the large rocks, though it was barely a struggle, considering his weight.

"Don't talk, Balthier," Lightning said urgently. "Concentrate on getting better; I know you do not need magick to heal yourself."

"Silencing Balthier is like attempting to dam all the water in the Naldoan Sea," Fran said dryly. "It is impossible to stop him if he wants to say something."

"Fran, please," he spluttered. "You're ruining the _drama_ of the moment."

"I fail to see where the drama is, pirate." Lightning growled. "You've been laid open like a fish. Why did you do it? I thought you hated Mustadio."

"At first… didn't know what to think." Balthier forced himself to stay awake, even though his body screamed that it wanted to sleep off the wound. "Just… woke up in the dark, and then I saw him. I was… jealous."

"Jealous!" Lightning exclaimed. "You have _Fran_. Why are you jealous?"

"You're really… such a pretty girl, Light. When I finally looked into your eyes… thought you looked… so very sad and lonely. Gods… I was so selfish until now… I did not realize it until last night… realized you were happy… I am so very glad for you, Light. And Fran… I'd say you never intended to kill Fafnir. You wanted to kill me. Pity I had to die to realize all the things you wanted me to." Balthier scowled before passing out. Lightning returned his scowl unconsciously as Fran hefted the pirate over her shoulder, sprinting out of the canyon as fast as her mocha legs could carry her, Mustadio close behind them.

* * *

><p>"You say the mechanism to send you across time is broken?" Balthier sat at the kitchen table in the <em>Strahl<em> with Mustadio, while Fran poked and prodded his new scar to make sure it had healed decently on its own.

"Yes," Mustadio said, dumping the little machine on the table. Screws and crystals spilled out of its ruptured casing. Balthier raised his eyes toward Lightning, who lounged behind Mustadio's chair.

"Good gods, woman, what did you do to this thing?"

"Balthier, Snow would have done something like break it, but not I."

"Whoever 'Snow,' is," the pirate grumbled, leaning over the machine to help Mustadio repair it. "I have a Teleport Stone; you can use it to replace the power source in your machine. It will likely be enough; it was enough to teleport the _Strahl_." Mustadio whistled.

"My father would be jumping mad to get ahold of this technology," he muttered, replacing the screws and sweeping crystal dust into his palm. "I suppose he'll be missing us now, Light. Er… thanks for letting us stay?"

"Nice of you to visit," Balthier purred. "Send us a letter in advance though if you plan on dropping by. I wouldn't fancy killing Mustadio because I thought he was a figment of my own, broken imagination."

Mustadio pressed the button almost too quickly, and the elder Bunansa laughed wickedly. "Enjoy yourself, Lightning. Mortal lives are short."

"Eternity is not forever," she replied, before in a flash of green light, they disappeared.

Fran shook her head.

"An interesting girl, Lightning is."

"You have no idea." Balthier said mildly.


	3. Gran Pulse

Okay, so not my best, but I'm really tired and stressed out and I rambled for 10 pages. Ugh. But... enjoy what you can, may be edited later. Yours truly, the Stressed Daifuku.

Thanks, I lurvs you, **Tango-chan**, and thanks for your reviews, **dragon-san**. Just another note, this story may jump a little bit because some time passes between each story and I don't remember if I made that clear... I never really intended to make this its own story, but here it it is.

* * *

><p>Balthier poured over an incomplete map of the most recent fragment of Lemures discovered in Ivalice, preparing for the raid he and Fran were about to conduct upon the yet undisturbed treasures buried inside. Fran picked at a salad next to him, and he was amused by how disdainfully she pushed aside the carrot rounds, which were quickly snatched up and devoured by the aging Leveret. The Moogle greedily awaited any more gifts Fran might bestow him, twitching his button nose in anticipation.<p>

"What's wrong, Fran?" Balthier finally dragged his attention from the map to look at his partner. "You're normally a lot more hungry than this, especially before a heist."

"I cannot help but feel that something is going to go wrong," Fran replied softly, setting her fork down. "What if a god slumbers within the auracite buried in piece of Lemures? You and I… we have had enough experience with gods to know they bode no good for us."

The hume sky pirate nodded his agreement, rolling the map up and handing it to Leveret, who was busily scarfing Fran's salad while she wasn't looking. Leveret paused guiltily, a few shreds of lettuce clinging to his whiskers. "What if a god doesn't? Then we get auracite to put on the market for no work at all."

"Your greed will be the death of you, hume-child," Fran said affectionately, ruffling his hair.

"It already was," Balthier stretched, feeling the medallion shift slightly in his chest. "The cursed gold was the result of a conqueror's greed." He strode out of the kitchen and into the cockpit, entering the coordinates into the navigation system. The hot Dalmascan sun had heated the controls up to an almost unbearable temperature, and he did not look forward to gripping the joysticks. Steeling himself against the heat, he executed a perfect lift off from the edge of the Estersand and flew east toward the Sandsea.

The inside of the cave made from the fallen fragment of Lemures was coated with auracite, glittering blue and white with its own arcane magick. Mist hovered thick in the air like the ghosts of forgotten dreams, drifting here and there as if it had a will of its own.

"The Mist has long cooled since Feolthanos left the Isle to crumble to dust," Fran said, but her ears were erect, and her eyes searched every corner. An aegyl skeleton hung from a spike of auracite growing out of the floor, and the instant they approached it, it jumped to life. A gunshot to the head shattered its skull and sent it clattering back to the afterlife.

"Some cooled Mist," Balthier whistled as Fran retrieved the piece of Dark magicite lodged in its skull. She shrugged—she was not right all the time—and tossed him the stone. He caught it with one hand, pocketing it in the same motion before following her down toward the crystal core, deeper into the depths of the fallen sky island.

* * *

><p>The lights surrounding them grew brighter the farther they went, as if Mist had been trapped and now lent its power to the auracite that made up the walls. Balthier narrowed his eyes against the pure, blinding light, his head aching slightly from brightness. The familiar feeling of invisible hands settling about his neck filled him with dread; Fran was right, there was a god—something—divine in this place, and it was awakening at their presence. The hands plucked at his sleeves, ran their fingers, soft as feathers, through his hair, caressed the underside of his jaw, and pulled at his hands, drawing him on. There was someone singing; high pitched and eerie, like a lovely siren's call that lures men to their deaths in the embrace of—something—that seems beautiful—in a dream. But when you open your eyes—you find that the sirens—are actually quite ugly. His thoughts scattered like fish before a hungry shark.<p>

They rose from the sea to great him, singing their deceptive song, reaching clawed, webbed hands for his face and smiling, showing off ivory yellow, pointed teeth that jutted past their rubbery green lips. Their skin was grey and their hair was seaweed, but their song was of pale-skinned things—with locks of soft hair that parted smoothly and rippled—like water.

Balthier struggled to stay aloof, above their hypnotic spell, but they had a hold of his hands and were dragging him into the sea with them. He had to wake up—the water was rising, he wasn't sinking, the water was rising—he had to wake up, or else he would drown. Balthier's mind, broken and scattered by the high Mist concentration, flickered feebly again.

A clawed hand grabbed at the back of his shirt and hauled him out of the water, out of the sirens' reach, and they dissolved into eddies of Mist and broken shards of auracite strewn on the ground. He turned toward his savior, only to find it wasn't human—not at all.

The cave transformed again; this time into a field of flowers with pristine pools full of lotus blooms of pale pinks and peacock blues and whites like sea foam. His savior blinked at him with blood red eyes. It was a vaguely humanoid creature, only slightly taller than Balthier himself but infinitely stronger. The hard skin on its stomach, arms, and legs was black and gold, but black fur tipped with red covered its back. It had many, many hands—too many to count, and its long, thick tail lashed haughtily, reminding Balthier somewhat of a lazy Coeurl.

With a nod of its head, heavy with… horns? Embellishments? The beast rose from its haunches and ambled away across the field, twitching its tail in an indication to follow it. His mind dulled and crazed by Mist sickness, Balthier obeyed, silently walking in the whispering fields of flowers. He swore that it was a smirk, not a snarl that was plastered on its face. Despite its slightly massive appearance, the beast left no footprints—it did not crush the delicate blossoms it walked upon. When it reached the end of the field, which was dominated by a huge, roaring waterfall with lotus flowers spinning in the turbulent waters, it turned to face him.

Slowly, but with no visible effort, the beast shrank into the form of a man, and for a moment, Balthier thought he was staring at a reflection of himself, but no— this "reflection" had black hair tied back in a short pony tail, and eyes red as blood. For a moment, eyes brown flecked with silver locked with crimson, but the silver ones broke first, dancing away to look elsewhere. When he finally looked back at the was-beast, it was smirking, twirling a red rose through its fingers.

"I would that you gave this to someone for me," the creature began, lifting the flower to his face and sniffing it. "It would be best if it came from you." Like a distrustful cat, Balthier sifted the creature's scent, his mind sluggishly trying to keep up with what was happening. He smelled blood and godhood, and he smelled all his friends from Ivalice centuries upon centuries ago; there was his own scent, slightly different, but unmistakable, and it screamed pain, suffering, and other emotions beyond the basic comprehension granted his muddled mind at the moment. And then there was _her._ It was the next strongest scent, and it was like the heart-breaking sweetness of crushed roses but cold like the magick of a foreign god.

"You… Ragnarok?" Balthier slurred faintly, Mist clouding his mind.

"Speak not, Ffamran," Ragnarok hushed him, snapping the flower from the rose stem with his thumb and slipping it into one of Balthier's pouches. "You are ill with the Mist; I felt it too, when I pulled you from the edge of the Madness in the depths of Lemures. Soon, you will away from this place, and you'll find her again, wandering with those she loves—but still sad and lonely."

Ragnarok took his hand, and Balthier nearly flinched at the heat of the creature's palms; he suspected it might be warm-blooded, he simply did not know that it would be _that_ warm blooded. It led him through the waterfall, and into a hidden passage beyond completely encrusted with auracite. For a long time, there was only the sound of their feet on the slippery crystal floor, as Ragnarok led him through the blinding light, and then—

Sometime in the interim, Ragnarok disappeared, and Balthier stumbled into the cool night air of a different world, blue crystal crumbling from his body. He swore slightly drunkenly; Fran would be furious, for sure, to find he left her again. She might tie him to the _Strahl_ this time to ensure he did not get into trouble. Stumbling down the slight rise out of the cave, cursing the Mist sickness that dulled his wits and reflexes, and made it feel as if his bones were filled with lead. Trees towered over him on either side of the path, and the cliff face rose sheer and white in the stark moonlight behind him. Slowly, a low howl rose, thin and mournful from the trees: and Balthier was certain that it was not the wind. Like a wolf pack on the prowl, strange creatures, humanoid but horribly deformed, oozed out from the tree line, clad in the remnants of armor but covered in black, rough crystalline spikes. He eyed them warily as they came, taking in the rotting flesh with black crystals protruding from the holes. They were not so different from him; but their mindlessness was revolting.

Balthier shifted slightly into a fighting stance, noticing with a little frustration that his gun appeared to be gone. Why was his gun always gone? Perhaps he should find a material that transported across dimensions a little better and make a gun from that? These creatures _seemed_ undead; his Yagyu Darkblade would do nothing, then. When the humanoid, ghoul-like beings clustered together and broke into a shambling trot, he sprang at them, scattering the first few with a barrage of Shock spells and crushing the pulsating red light in the chest of another. With a gurgling moan, several of the ghouls fell back, circling like wolves.

The Mist sickness chose the most opportune moments to weaken him; it leeched fingers into his mind and tugged his attention back and forth at shadows that jumped in the moonlight. At that moment, a ghoul jumped on top of him, bearing him to the ground and latching broken teeth into his shoulder. Helpless in Mist thrall, he barely managed to groan the words to an Ardor spell through his own rotten lips before the spell ran rampant, white and blue light flashing bright enough to turn the night into day. The screams of the incinerating monsters was horrifying; such light and sound, he was sure, had not touched the woods for an age.

However, the ghoul on his shoulder held on tenaciously, growling and doing its best to rip his shoulder and collarbones clean off. Unable to think clearly about debilitating consequences, Balthier punched it in the head with a hand filled with Holy, his mind too dull to register the pain of his own corroding digits. Pushing the corpse off of him and working its jaws out of his flesh, Balthier suddenly became aware of hume voices in the trees.

"This way, the lights came from here!" a young voice said.

"Hope, what were you _doing_ out here alone anyway? Ghoul Ci'eth like to wander these woods in droves; you could have been killed!" Annoyance made the speaker's cadence rise and fall like leaping flame.

"Sorry, Sazh," the young voice said. Blurry shapes in the trees resolved themselves into people, living, normal people. The smell of crushed roses rolled over him; Balthier was beyond relief when Lightning dashed into the clearing behind a tall man in a white trench coat, a man with a green overcoat and a ridiculous hairstyle, and a youth with silver purple hair and a gentle expression. However, he was bewildered when the man in the trench coat grabbed a thick branch from the ground and plunged it through his chest, the branch puncturing his vest (which looked as if it were a thousand years old in the sickly moonlight), and pinning him to the ground.

"There's one more," the man said, turning to Lightning and the other two. "Shall we kill it? It looks… it looks sort of like…"

"Stand aside, Snow," the man in the overcoat said, pulling a gun. Ah, so the man in the overcoat gets a gun, does he? He held it toward Balthier with shaking hands. "I'll do it. You shouldn't look at it, I know it hurts to see that the skeleton looks like… him. You too, Light."

"You sure about this, Sazh?" Lightning looked at Balthier sidelong, the faintest glimmer of recognition in her face when their eyes met. Balthier found himself unable to do much else but back at her with dull, exhausted, silver-flecked eyes, teeth bared faintly in a perpetual death grin.

"_No!_" Snow yelled unexpectedly, grabbing the gun and brandishing it in Balthier's face. "I can do it! It's not him, it can't be him, because he left!"

"_Snow!_" Lightning yelled, as the gun went off with a deafening bang.

The bullet impacted the hard ground inches to Balthier's left.

"Hume child, why did you miss?" Balthier croaked, laying his head back on the ground and closing his eyes.

"Because I suck at handling guns, all right? And a long time ago, someone told me beating things to death with my bare hands was ridiculously barbaric." Snow shouted, throwing the gun down. "Why'd you stop me, sis?" he looked at Lightning.

"You shouldn't do that, it might go off again, and then you might hit me," Balthier said mildly, reaching up with his good hand to pull the branch out of his chest. Lightning beat him to it, easing the branch out as best as she could without scraping his ribs. Her skin, when her finger brushed against the smooth bone of his arm, was warm, but not overly so. It was the Eternal, Lightning Farron. Seconds later, she punched him across the face, dislocating his jaw with a snap. Balthier's eyes widened as he regarded her in stunned silence, his jaw hanging at a skewed angle comically before he reached up and snapped it back in place.

"Why didn't you tell me about this?" she snapped, towering over him and resplendent in her wrath.

"It wasn't a problem when we met," he replied, cowering further when Lightning raised her hand again, only to let it fall limply to her side as she knelt next to him.

"What did you do to your hand, pirate?" she sighed, gingerly taking his Holy mangled hand in her own, careful not to touch the places where it looked as if the bone was scraped raw to the marrow. Her hand, glowing with Dark, pattered over the thin, holey film of flesh on the inside of his wrist and the back of his hand, before briskly whisking over the charred bones of his palm and fingers. Balthier had to hold down a whine of pain when her hand brushed a cracked digit, but slowly, the first signs of healing began to appear, though pencil thin white lines marked where the damage was most severe.

"I know, you're going to tell me to be more careful, don't be rash, and stop doing stupid things, right?" Balthier asked, wincing as she continued her ministrations. He began to perk up slightly as the Mist sickness faded, the ambient Mist not enough to cause it to spike again.

"No," Lightning said softly, looking at his face. He was aware that, through several holes in his rotten skin, his teeth and vertebrae were visible and that he also appeared as if his skin were dark blue with decay. "I was going to ask what happened to you."

Balthier exhaled, though his empty chest cavity only creaked in response to the action. "This… is the secret to my immortality. Charming, isn't it?"

Lightning punched him across the face again. "This isn't time for jokes, pirate. Snow just tried to kill you, and he'd never do such a thing." Balthier glanced at Snow, who seemed badly shaken as he watched Lightning help the sky pirate.

"Please, don't do that, Light. I'm a lot more fragile like this than I'd like to be right now. So this is Snow?" Snow jumped as Balthier addressed him.

"You didn't lose your mind or anything when, well… _that_ happened to you, did you? You remember me, don't you? I'm the one who's supposed to get amnesia about people I know all the time, not you." Snow said uncertainly, though a faint grin curled about his lips.

"We've never met," Balthier said, as gently as he could. Snow paled. "I'm not Light's man. I only bear a striking resemblance to him, that's all." He could see the other man's eyebrows rising.

"You look like you might need to eat more, and maybe get a whole lot of bandages, and then maybe you'll look a little… I dunno, more lively and back to your usual self?" Snow shrugged, cracking a bad joke. With loud pops and creaks, Balthier managed to stagger to his feet, though Lightning, wrinkling her nose in faint disgust, had to help him by looping her arms under his shoulders before his knees gave out from weakness.

"That was bad show, Ice," he muttered, and Snow instantly seemed to be ecstatic.

"You remember me?"

"No, weren't you listening? We've never met. From what Light told me, though, I got the distinct impression of a rather clumsy buffoon with no prowess at handling technology whatsoever."

"Hey! That was mean, sis!" Snow shouted indignantly. Balthier looked curiously at their other companions.

"The man with the guns is Sazh, and the kid is Hope." Lightning explained.

"I'm not a kid!" Hope protested, but she shook her head.

"I'm over a thousand, remember? You'll always be kids to me."

"Listen to that, Balthier. The nerve of Light nowadays. Now that she's become an Eternal, she's come near insufferable, don't you think?" Snow said, trotting next to them with his long, easy stride.

"Well, actually I'm about four-hundred-ten right now, so it won't do much good to complain to me, sorry." Balthier said smugly, watching Snow's eyes widen to the size of saucers.

"You're o—"

"Don't say it."

"Alright… So I've come to the conclusion that maybe time passes differently in Ivalice then it does in Gran Pulse." Snow shrugged.

Lightning buried her face in her hands; Balthier rolled his eyes. Snow clearly was not the sharpest knife in the drawer, or was so desperate to see Balthier again that he refused to acknowledge the fact that the man with him was not the man he knew. At any rate, the pirate knew that he was in for a long stay.

* * *

><p>"There, much better, right?" Serah smiled at him warmly, pulling the last of the bandages tight around his fingers. "I'm afraid that if you go outside, they'll probably fall off, but if you stay out of the light or maybe try to keep this hand out of it, you'll be fine, right?" she patted Balthier on the head as if he were a kitten that just fell into a freezing pond, before dancing out of the room to go to bed. Seeing his quirked eyebrow, Lightning shrugged.<p>

"That's Serah for you."

"Yes, I can hardly believe you two are sisters." Balthier smiled at her thinly, his eyes roving ceaselessly around Serah and Snow's house. He supposed it was not really having a home of his own that made him feel awkward— he could never stay in one place or have one occupation too long without people starting to notice that things were… off.

"Oh?"

"For one, she does not have the mad urge to punch people every few seconds."

"Huh." Lightning leaned against the table idly, studying her fingers. "You know… returning back home and seeing everyone… so alive and well, it makes me feel happy, you know? But I feel so sad at the same time, knowing that I'll maybe see them pass, again. I don't really know what happened, and I'm not sure I want to know. But… I'm not here to change the past or prevent anything."

"You have the opportunity, though," Balthier replied, rising to his feet from the chair Serah had forced him into. "What you've told me, about what happens to…" his silver-brown eyes darted toward the doorway of the room where Serah was sleeping. Snow's rumbling snores filled the house. "You could stop it, or prevent it from happening to her."

Lightning bit her lip. "That is true; I could save her so much pain, but I—I don't know what to do."

Balthier looked toward the floor, unnerved by her indecisiveness. That wasn't like her, not at all. He chose to change the subject.

"I met someone who seems like he was rather important to you. He wanted you to have this." Balthier handed her the rose Ragnarok had given him to pass on. "I think you can guess who it's from. The same thing that dragged me here."

Lightning cradled the rose to her chest, a faint, strangled sound he recognized as a sob rising from her throat. "How—" she began, but Balthier shook his head.

"He's still out there, Light, and he still loves you. By the way, he also said you were alone. Where's Mustadio?"

"I left him at ho—" she began, but stopped herself. "In Ivalice. I didn't want him to come; he doesn't belong here."

The sudden absence of snores cut off Balthier's reply; the next thing he knew, Snow's arms were wrapped around his chest.

"Bloody hell, get off me, man!" Lightning allowed a true laugh to escape as Balthier struggled to get out of Snow's hug attack. Snow was built like a bear compared to the poor pirate who was getting the life crushed out of him. "I'm not an inter-universal deliveryman! I'm not just about to hand out flowers and _go_, especially when I was dragged here during a bout of Mist sickness by a god!"

Snow finally released him as Serah, her hair slightly messy but still immensely cute, wandered in. The pirate massaged his shoulders in the aftermath of the unexpected hug, glaring at Snow viciously. As Serah set about making something edible with Lightning, who rose from the table to help her, Snow sat down in the chair Balthier abandoned, shivering slightly.

"Geez, Balthier, don't you stay in one place long enough to warm it up?"

"No, I stay in one place long enough to cool it down." Balthier turned away from him abruptly. "You need to stop deluding yourself, Snow Villiers. I'm not who you think I am, nor can I ever be."

Snow was silent, and Balthier could see his bewildered eyes in the window glass. Serah, as if sensing the tension heavy in the air, interjected by placing a huge plate of food in front of the white-haired man, who turned toward it and began devouring it with the single-minded attention of a starving man.

"Would you like anything?" Serah turned toward him, and he could see Lightning standing behind her, like a watchful sentinel should something untoward happen. Balthier licked his teeth uncertainly, feeling the sharp points, the tip of his tongue darting past his lips as he wet them nervously.

"It's all right. You don't need to do anything for me," he attempted to evade the question, but Snow, imperceptive fool he was, spoke around a mouthful of food.

"It's not like you to not want to eat anything. C'mon, just have _something_, man."

"I… don't really need hume food anymore." Balthier said. "And pray you don't find out what I actually do eat anymore."

"Can't be worse than when you turned into Ragnarok and killed seven people in Old Archades."

"I did?"

"Yeah, don't you remember?"

"Snow…"

"I'm sorry!"

Lightning shook her head, grabbing Balthier's hand and half dragging him out the door. "Let's go visit Sazh, Balthier. He's building a new airship since I kind of crashed his other one when I went to Ivalice…"

"Why am I not surprised?" Balthier sighed as he followed her out the door, leaving Snow to finish scarfing breakfast.

* * *

><p>"Girl, I'm not letting you near my baby." Sazh stood in front of the doorway leading into the room where he was working on the new ship. Lightning rolled her eyes, nudging Balthier out from behind her. "Oh hey, Balthier, didn't see you there. Sorry 'bout last night, I thought you were some sort of weird Ci'eth that I've never seen before. We may have gotten rid of most of the Fal'Cie, but there's still plenty of Ci'eth wandering around. Wanna come look at my new airship?" Sazh moved aside to allow Balthier into the room, but turned around and playfully bared Lightning's path again.<p>

The airship was a beauty, Balthier mused as he brushed a hand against the smooth side of the hull. A young boy with a baby chocobo flying around his head looked up from where he was admiring the ship on the other side.

"Hello, Mr. Balthier," the boy said. Balthier managed a strangled hello as Lightning finally managed to fight her way out from behind Sazh's protective barrier.

"This is Dajh, Sazh's son." Lightning said.

"A pleasure," Balthier shook his hand, just as the Chocobo chick decided to fly into his face like a feathered cannonball. Prying the madly twittering thing off his face, Balthier nestled it's claws into Dajh's afro, where the chick remained, tweeting happily. "And this is…?"

"He doesn't have a name," Dajh replied, patting the bird affectionately. Balthier turned his attention back to the airship, walking back around it as Sazh rejoined them.

"If you used shorter wires, and put them to a more direct power source, you could make the ship more efficient and it will fly longer," Balthier nudged a long coil of wire with his foot. "Perhaps something half this length running behind the control panel would do."

"Mmm…" Sazh jotted down a note on the blueprint absently, stroking his stubble. Balthier found himself of the vague opinion that the man should shave.

"Light! Light!" Hope came running in, nearly tripping over himself and sprawling on the floor if Dajh didn't catch him. Lightning turned toward him, a smile on her face, until he panted, "It's Snow! He went into the woods alone a-and he woke up s-something quite l-l-large!"

"Large? How large?" Lightning asked harshly, grabbing Hope's shoulder.

"Long Gui large…" Hope keeled over onto the floorboards, and Dajh knelt next to him, the Chocobo chick silent for once.

"We have to go," Lightning grabbed Balthier again, and once more he found himself being dragged out the door, this time with Sazh on their heels shouting to Dajh about not letting strangers into the house while he was away.

"What is this creature, anyway?" Balthier managed to escape Lightning's rigid hold and dashed alongside her, checking the strap on his beloved Darkblade.

"Long Gui was a type of Oretoise, if I remember correctly," Lightning said quickly. "He is very strong; and while Snow is also strong, he's not enough to take down an Oretoise by himself."

In fact, when they reached the clearing where Snow was tangling with the Long Gui, Balthier found himself doubting that they could bring it down themselves. It swung long, scythe-like tusks at Snow, who dodged like a monkey, but he was already covered in blood from many long gashes, and his arm appeared to be broken.

"_Fool,_" Balthier muttered in Vieran as the Long Gui came in for a stomp.

"You should know better than to wander the woods behind the village alone," Lightning accused Snow as she dragged him out of the melee. Sazh primed his gun as Balthier stood at the ready to defend him from any wild strikes from the gigantic creature.

"You came back for me, Balthier. I knew you would." Snow coughed weakly.

"Stubborn humes should be quiet when they are injured," Balthier admonished him. "I can't heal you, Ice. White magick is the bane of my existence, other than children."

"Balthier—" this time blood-flecked sputum rolled from the side of his lips.

"Ice, shut up. You've not done much for me to have the need to protect you; I'm doing this because Lightning has dragged me out here with the intention of doing something heroic."

"I'm the hero, Balthier. You shouldn't have to save me."

"Even the hero needs to be saved every once in a while," Balthier responded as Lightning dodged another stomp that would have turned her into an Eternal pancake. A jab of a tusk tore a long gash in her arm, and he quickly sent a miasma of Dark toward her to heal the wound.

"If he doesn't stop talking, he's going to hurt himself. I'm pretty sure he's Doomed." Sazh checked the struggling man over, nodding to himself sagely. "He's pretty close to the end, unless we can find a way to slow his blood down… anyone know how to do that?"

Rolling his eyes, Balthier reached down and plucked Snow's pale hand from the ground.

"This may hurt a moment." He delivered a sharp nip to the back of Snow's hand, quickly licking away the few drops of blood that oozed from the clean cuts.

"What are you—" Snow was sinking fast, his eyes glazing over. "What did you… do…?"

"It's simply a natural anesthesia. You'll wake up in an hour, Doom free if we can find a remedy, feeling better than ever." Balthier replied shortly. "By the way, I thought you might want to know: your blood tastes terrible, Ice. Almost as bad as Baknamy." The NORA gang leader's eyes widened slightly.

"You said that before! I mean, the other you but—but!" his eyes rolled up into his head and he slumped back.

"We've bought him another hour," the pirate turned back to the battle, which so far had progressed horribly. Lightning danced back and forth out of reach of the stomping feet and whirling tusks, but for all her effort, only managed to scratch at its huge front legs. Entering into the fray, he truly discovered how hard it was to even get close to the Long Gui without the possibility of getting disemboweled.

"Perhaps a tactical retreat is in order, Light?"

"We can win this if we stay focused." Lightning replied, conviction shining in her eyes. Balthier grabbed her hands and yanked her toward him as the Long Gui nearly scissor'd her in half. The tusk missed his head by an inch. Almost as if they were dancing, Balthier pushed her away as a long leg zoomed by. "No matter how hard we hit it, it won't fall!"

"There is one way… and you'd better not break me." Balthier allowed the Oretoise to skewer him, grasping the tusk before it could fling him clear and at the same time, plunging his hand into his own chest and ripping out the medallion. With numbing hands, he clumsily tossed the coin to Lightning, who caught it awkwardly.

"Wait! What am I supposed to do with—" she began, but his body began to combust and decay instantly, blinding the Gui Long with light and flame. Roaring loudly and tossing its head in an attempt to throw its flaming burden clear, the Gui Long rushed toward the sheer cliff face behind the village, crushing trees and throwing debris everywhere. With a crash, it slammed into the cliff, its neck snapping with the force, and it slumped to the ground like a broken puppet.

* * *

><p>"Back again so soon?" Ragnarok crouched over him, smirking.<p>

"I'm afraid I will be here for a while, while my body regenerates. Can't really come back from complete death particularly quickly, I'm afraid." Balthier sat up slowly, placing a hand over the hole in his stomach and his heart and wincing. "I delivered you flower, by the way."

"Did she like it?" the other man (man?) asked anxiously, grabbing Balthier's hand with his overly warm ones. His eyes were desperate, pleading.

"She cried."

"Oh." Ragnarok tucked his knees under his chin contentedly, smiling.

"It won't be long now," Balthier said, looking toward the waterfall. It was frozen, locking him in the other world, the lotuses frozen in place. "It won't be long."

"No," Ragnarok agreed, "it won't. I wish I could join you when you saw her, one last time."

"Lightning said that I was a host to you, long ago. I would make a deal with you Ragnarok. I will allow you to see Light once more; in return, you can send me home. I already died twice for Lightning, I don't really intend to do so a third time."

Ragnarok's red eyes widened.

"You are serious? What of Snow, my destroyer?"

"I can't really say no, I'm stuck here with you and my soul is as vulnerable as a chickatrice alone in the Zertinan Caverns. If you killed me… well, that would be the end, wouldn't it?" Balthier stood up, pacing toward the waterfall.

"I am in your debt, Ffamran. I won't forget this."

"Be careful, heretic god. My body is not particularly stable; it won't last." Balthier smirked as they vanished through the waterfall together.

* * *

><p>The sense of power was almost overwhelming; it crushed him and scattered his psyche to the four winds and pulled it all back together again only to pulverize it once more. He could see Lightning staring… up at him? In surprise and wonder, and then there was a spark of happiness, despite the fact that there was a beast roughly seven feet tall that had completely regenerated out of a medallion two inches across in the middle of her living room, right behind the prone figure of Snow on the couch.<p>

"It's you," she murmured quietly. "You came back."

Ragnarok purred faintly, his tail twitching lazily, the medallion gleaming in his chest. He said nothing, but turned toward Snow, who was still completely out from Balthier's poisonous bite, and touched his nose to the other man's forehead. There was a flash of noxious red light, and Snow abruptly woke up with a muttered oath.

"You…?"

"Me." The beast growled, a mixture of Balthier's voice and his own, dark, cruel one. "You ought to be thankful; you were going to die." When he turned back to Lightning, his eyes softened again. "I'm sorry, Claire. Perhaps… one day, you will join us in the sky, hmm?"

"You came back and possessed Balthier just to tell me _that?_" Lightning asked, a little more than amused.

"Selfish, isn't it? He made a deal, and he chose to be possessed, just like that little machinist boy you had before him…"

"You're just jealous of Mustadio." She replied.

"I wish to be a hume, and is it not their nature?" Ragnarok slowly began to dissipate, turning to whirling eddies of Mist.

"You dragged him away; Fran is going to give him hell for this."

"Alas. Farewell, Claire."

"This isn't goodbye, Ragnarok." She gave him a smile, and that smile warmed Balthier, from his distant vantage point in the ether, to the very edges of his fragmented soul.

Which was lucky, for soon he was cold as ice and struggling out of a pool of icy water in the depths of the crystalized Lemures, coughing and spluttering. Fran stood over him, a very evil look in her eyes, while Leveret hovered over her head like a baby Chocobo.

"Fran, I can explain. There was a beast, and it dragged me into the pond, and then—"

"I do not want to hear it. Perhaps next time you run the gibbet, I will leave you in the ground."

Balthier whimpered.


	4. Disillusioned

Not too much to say today, just gotta get it out! Fourth in Mu and Tango's series!

Thanks, **Tango-chan**, for writing this, and thanks, **dragon-san** for reading all our crossovers! AAAAAAAAAAGH I just realized when I was moving these that all your reviews will have been deleted! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

* * *

><p>Ivalice had changed. In the upheaval over the years, Rabanastre was now a smoldering ruin amid a desert abandoned by humanity as a land of devils. Balthier sighed, gently massaging his temples as he contemplated the Necrohol of Rabanastre spread out below the moonlit rise, the once great cathedral now nothing but twisted ribs open to the sky, collapsing in upon itself.<p>

_Such destruction… it is, after all these years, rather disappointing._ Balthier thought, then stopped. What, in the name of all that was holy, made him think _that_? He never had much of an opinion of Rabanastre to begin with—but in fact, now that Nabudis was gone, Rabanastre was a little bit appealing, if a little too warm…

There was a faint whistling noise, and Balthier looked around, the bones of his neck crunching slightly after being still for so long. He saw nothing—not below, not to the sides… that meant…

Up.

He looked up just in time to see a flash of red descending upon him—he thought he saw a rose—then there was an ugly crack and a lancing pain in his head and he knew no more.

* * *

><p>Balthier groaned faintly as he swam out of oblivion, clenching his bony fingers in the sand and pushing himself up. His head hurt mightily, and he pressed a hand to his pounding forehead, feeling the cracks in his skull already mending. Bloody hell, how did roses fall from the sky and break people's heads? He growled, irritated, before catching sight of a small device filled with auracite lying on the ground a short distance away, irreparably and irrevocably shattered. Well… Fran always said he was hardheaded. Among the glittering bits of wreckage was a lone, red rose. Balthier crouched to pick it up, but sighed as, when he touched it, it wilted immediately.<p>

"We are not so very different, are we?" he murmured, touching a faded petal gently.

_Hm… it is not every day that one finds a skeleton talking to roses, especially when the skeleton seems to be me,_ he thought. Wait—he did not think that! Balthier looked up quickly, swearing when pain lanced through his neck, and stared at… himself? No, no, this Balthier was human, whole and unblemished in the moonlight. Balthier looked down at his own skeletal hands unhappily, feeling a case of flesh envy coming on.

"This isn't the time for introspection," he muttered faintly. "Roses are red; Violets are blue," he paused. "That's right, I told Lightning to leave a message…" His other self seemed overjoyed, a broad smile passing over his face.

_You know Lightning?_ he asked, getting to his knees in the sand. Balthier cocked his head.

"If you are me, shouldn't you know that already? Unless… you're Light's man, _aren't_ you? Centuries dead and gone?"

The other Balthier flinched, then lowered his eyes sadly. _You envy me, I think, don't you?_

"We understand each other very well."

'_Tis I who envy _you_. You may be… rather unhealthy looking at the moment, but you are still in Ivalice—you are still here. I—I no longer walk the mortal plain._

"Are you a ghost, come back to haunt me? Allow me to warn you before we go any further— ghosts and I have not gotten along particularly well. Swear to me you will not try to take my soul." The other Balthier looked startled by the strange request, but was apparently so eager to see Lightning again, he accepted readily.

_Do you know where to find her?_ the apparition asked, looking down at the Necrohol of Rabanastre.

"It is hard to find anybody, these days."

_Try Old Archades. I just have a feeling she will be there._

"Old Archades? By the—that place was a slum before, and it is a den of anarchists and rats now—a place for shells of men to wander, hollow eyed and angry before they are slaughtered by their fellows. Eternal or not, she'll not last there!"

_Then should you not do your duty as the leading man? Does he not always get the girl?_

Balthier glared at his other self. "Snow rubbed off on you a little bit, didn't he?"

* * *

><p>Old Archades was just as he remembered it, the last time he had been there. Filthy Humes and malformed humanoids slunk among the trash heaps like so many rats. The stench of death rose from the city like smog, and everywhere, corpses littered the darkened street corners. The high noon sun beat down upon him as he ambled across the rooftops, the ghost of Lightning's Balthier a constant presence flickering at the edge of his awareness, but invisible in the noonday sun. He could hear his constant fretting, though, and muttering about old women, Balthier continued his attempt to track Lightning through the city.<p>

At all costs, they must not see him. Old Archades was one of the few grounds where he _could_ hunt and no one noticed. Selecting victims judiciously and sporadically had allowed him to go unnoticed for the longest time, but eventually, people began to wonder about the drained cadavers scattered about…

Balthier hopped through the open window of an abandoned house to take refuge from the sun, sniffing and wrinkling his nose and the cloying scent of decay that came at him like a wall. A fly infested Hume carcass occupied the middle of the floor, brown, dried blood smeared liberally around the body, flaking off as it baked in the sun. He admitted freely that he was hungry for blood at the moment—but this was just nauseating and he was not a scavenger.

_What happened?_ The other Balthier whispered, slightly more visible in the half-light.

"The Cataclysm—not even Upper Archades was spared when society turned upside down in the aftermath. Everything in this world I thought I knew is gone—Fran and I have been here far, far too long." He fixed his younger, ghostly self with an intense silver glare. "Immortality is a curse, young man. You had best remember that before you go haring off after it."

_I know—I was the one who cursed Light with immortality in my folly._

"My condolences." Balthier looked toward the darkening horizon, watching the cold light of the moon creeping through the streets. He could hear the dregs of society stirring, see the shadows darting through the streets, smell the bloodlust in the night—it was time to go. He darted over the window sill, catching himself on a metal beam running between the two houses and dropping to a lower rooftop. Like a spider, he scuttled across it, following the growing smell of crushed roses and otherworldly magic.

* * *

><p>He finally found her in an alleyway, pinned to the wall by a filthy man (man? It was hard to tell) who seemed more beast then Hume, covered with a faint layer of matted hair.<p>

"Attitudes like that are what's gonna getcha killed—or _worse_." The man-like creature (for truly, it could not be called a man) advanced toward her, lust in his voice, and in a heartbeat, Balthier had his gun cocked and his finger pulling the trigger. A wet, glittering hole was punched into the man-creature's back, and he slumped forward, dead. Lightning stood still for a moment, regarding the now dead man-creature with an appalled expression, before she looked to where he concealed himself on the rooftop.

"You're late." She called, smiling as he stepped into her line of sight. He jumped down into the alleyway to join her, landing on all fours to cushion his fall (for it wouldn't do for an old man to break his knees, after all) and rising to his feet. A breath of magick and a squelch—he was Hume again.

"At least give an old man some sympathy, m'dear. You should have told me you chose _this_ hole in which to rendezvous." He smiled roguishly while she held back a laugh, her eyes dancing.

"If you are an old man, am I the dust that blinds fearsome Oretoises?" she asked teasingly. Balthier allowed himself to slouch unbecomingly, his smile falling.

"Still upset about that, are we? I'd thought seeing your precious beastie would have cleared the tension between us." He said quietly, not meeting her eyes. "Snow is alright now?"

The other Balthier, standing by Light with a longing expression, jumped.

_Snow was hurt?_ he asked. Balthier ignored him.

"He's fine. He and the others forced me out of my home because my brooding was offending them… Why'd you leave a Teleport Stone for me, anyway?"

The sky pirate frowned as he scratched his neck distractedly, his eyes darting toward his doppelganger, who grinned sheepishly. _This is your fault_,he thought vehemently, but instead said,

"Teleport Stone? Light, I haven't been to Gran Pulse since Ragnarok named me his delivery man of all variants of roses."

"Snow said he saw you, though. And trust me; when he thinks he's seen a Balthier, he's right."

_No kidding,_ Other Balthier muttered.

"I have a distinct species now, apparently," Balthier said idly, nudging the body on the ground with his toe, much like one prods at an unappealing vegetable with their fork. He really was very hungry, but this Hume looked disgustingly inedible. "Tell Serah she needs to cure that oaf's obsession and impeccable fondness for me—er, the _other_ me." Other Balthier nodded his agreement, though Lightning could not see it.

"I'm not going back there, Balthier." She said stiffly.

_That bad, was it?_ This time, he was not sure if that was Other Balthier's words, or his own sentiment. As Lightning bent to examine the corpse, Balthier watched her hungrily. Was her blood red, he wondered, or black like his own? He saw the faint tinge of pink on her cheeks, so different from his own. Under his tan, it was, at times, very easy to see the tracery of black veins just under his skin. Her blood was red, he decided. He had never had Eternal blood before—what did it taste like?

_You can't eat her, if that is what you are thinking. I swear, you are worse than Ragnarok,_ Other Balthier snorted as Lightning stood back up. _But… I know how you feel, _he admitted. _We should leave soon. People will be attracted to the gunshot earlier._ Balthier shook his head, sighing.

"It's quite hard to distinguish my own thoughts from your words, you know." He said tightly. "I'm not sure if I am you, or myself anymore."

_At least I am benign, _the ghost argued.

"I suppose I should be pleased you're not trying to rip my soul from my body like those other ghosts once did."

"Balthier?" Lightning waved a hand between them, though of course she couldn't know—how could she ever know? "You really are mad, aren't you…"

_This is all a farce_, he thought, but instead closed his silver flecked eyes. "At times, I am nearly as mad as the Hatter."

"All because you chose to be cursed. I didn't."

Balthier almost smiled, but the words hit too close to home for comfort. "Your brooding is almost making me wish you would leave." He looked at her, but Other Balthier claimed his attention again.

_Do not think to send her away, selfish old man,_ he said, threat thinly veiled in his tone.

"Have it _your _way, why don't you?" Balthier snapped. "I won't force her to leave. I wasn't planning to, anyway. Does that sit well with you?"

_Very._

"I think we should find Fran." Lightning interposed. Balthier jumped, almost forgetting about her presence. "Does she know I'm here?"

"Of course. She knew you couldn't resist the thrilling life of a pirate much longer." Balthier replied cheerfully.

"Killing brute men in alleyways doesn't sound very appealing to me…"

"Those were my thoughts, long ago, but alas, everything has changed." _For the worst._

* * *

><p>Balthier trekked across the Tchita Uplands, following the <em>Strahl<em>'s lazy drift across the cliffs and mesas. Lightning followed at a distance, but the wind brought him her scent of fear. He curled his thin fingers about the anchor chain, climbing steadily and ignoring her as he made straight for the cockpit. Fran looked at him strangely.

"You brought her with you?"

"I wasn't about to leave her standing helpless in this mad world alone," he said guiltily. Under Fran's scrutiny, even Other Balthier fidgeted, though she could not see him.

Fran seared him with her critical gaze again before turning her nose up. "We make for the Necrohol of Rabanastre, then."

_We were just there, though, Fran!_ Other Balthier complained, and Balthier agreed.

Lightning left after a while, leaving them alone.

_There's something not right here,_ Other Balthier muttered, watching Lightning's back as she meandered down the hall. _I've known her quite a while—she is not acting normally._ _She has something in mind—an ulterior motive, perhaps. She wants something from you—and whatever it is, I do not think it bodes well for you._

"Light was always the honest one, not I. Are you saying I should not trust her?" Other Balthier nodded grimly, his mouth a tight line.

_It pains me to say yes._

Balthier rose swiftly to his feet and pushed his way out of the cockpit, anger and pain flooding his veins. He was hurt that she would hide things from him, but then again, didn't he hide things from her? He examined the spider web of lines that crossed his palms—he'd hidden the actual nature of his immortality from her for almost sixty years, but still… it didn't affect her, not like he suspected this would affect him. He encountered her as she came out of his room, and her eyes widened as she took in his thunderous expression. However, the soothing warmth of her hand on his arm eased the tension in his body, and he almost forgot what he came for…

"Did you and Fran argue?" she asked tentatively, her hands tight around his arm.

_You must not tell her about me, not yet. _Other Balthier pleaded. Quickly, Balthier thought of what lie should he tell her—Fran had been acting rather cold lately, so…

"She believes you have an ulterior motive for coming here, something other than wanting to visit me," he said.

"I'm not sure I understand... you invited me."

"Did I?"

"It couldn't have been anyone else. The other you wouldn't come back like that, he would have said something." Other Balthier wrung his hands angrily as if beseeching Lightning to understand, so Balthier winked as he walked past her.

"I'm sure he has done just that."

* * *

><p>After a few near misses with some bounty hunters who decided that undead sky pirate was next on the menu, they finally reached the Necrohol, buried in the sand and rejoining the desert from which it had once risen. Mist streamed out of the ancient building, and the scent of it was like hot acid burning on his tongue, or bile.<p>

_Too fresh_, some brain cell in the back of his mind warned him, but as usual, he ignored it, though he was absolutely certain he would regret it later.

"There's not much left of it, these days, but I suppose that's to be expected when you're a few centuries old." He explained to Lightning, who seemed a little hesitant. Her fingers were busy with her auracite necklace.

"I avoided coming here," she whispered, "even after the fall of the Royal family. Snow went to battle the Rozarrians and was killed. Things were never the same after that. Ivalice changed, and so did I."

_Light…_ _don't say that. Please, you have to say something; this is why she's hiding things from us._ Other Balthier begged.

"Stop your worrying," Balthier muttered, and Lightning looked at him sidelong. "Oh come now, you couldn't have changed that much, not unless you had less of a liking for beating men to a pulp," he said to her. She laughed unconvincingly, which was only cause for alarm.

"Only when provoked," she returned, trotting down the hill toward the Necrohol. Balthier followed her at a distance, wary, while Fran stayed the farthest back, uncomfortable with the Necrohol steaming Mist.

_Oh come now, Fran, you are the one who suggested we came here_, he thought, though he was unsure whether it was his own sentiment or that of his doppelganger, who followed Lightning almost like a lost puppy.

The Mist coalesced into that feeling of hands around his neck again, and he shivered, displeased with the events unfolding. He was constantly distracted by glimpses of braids and feathered pigtails vanishing around the corners of the old Rabanastre streets. There was the light sound of feet scuffing dusty stone—dancing, someone was dancing. Only Fran's firm hand on his shoulder kept him from chasing after the elusive girl who teased him from the shadows. Other Balthier watched him with concerned eyes.

_There's nothing there…_ he touched his undead counterpart's shoulder, but was only shrugged off. After a moment of wandering (where had Lightning gone off to?), his chest suddenly constricted painfully, just as Fran gave a nasty cough.

"The Mist, it is too new and too fresh for me to bear. Go find Lightning, then hurry back out," she urged, swiftly turning on her heel and departing. Balthier nodded, tossing her a casual salute, then—

He started for the girl dancing down the hallway, and she led him away, twisting and turning through the jumbled corridors until he stumbled into the old throne room. Sitting in the throne like the ruler of death, her legs crossed irratibly, was Lightning. The girl with golden braids was gone.

"Do you have a habit of disappearing, or have I gotten blind over the years?" he muttered, squinting at her as his eyes adjusted to the gloom.

"Both," she said tersely. "Where's Fran?"

"The Mist was too much for her, and she's on her way back to the _Strahl_. We should be returning as well, lest we want the ghosts to haunt our damned souls again…" he glanced toward Other Balthier, who smiled apologetically.

"All the ghosts that used to haunt me are long gone. My old allies tried to coax me into avoiding the gods at all costs, fearing I'd become their pawn." Lightning rose from the throne, her voice turning bitter. "Everyone was there… except _him_. He had already moved on by then, waiting for me to join him. I wouldn't be surprised if he's given up on me—he was always fickle."

Do _something!_ Other Balthier's voice rose to a discordant clamor. _Tell her that I haven't! But… she cannot know I am here, the fact I've _not_ moved on would break her heart… whatever is left of it, anyway._

"At least she has something of a heart left," Balthier muttered, before raising his voice urgently. "He's not moved on," he declared, and Lightning raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Your man may have found other ways to see you and other people to haunt."

"Pardon?" her other eyebrow was creeping up to join its companion.

"Never you mind, it was a slip of the tongue, that's all." Balthier shut his mouth before he could spill anymore, yawning to feign fatigue and stop any forthcoming questions. "Fran must be impatient by now, and I'd really rather not suffer the dire consequences of leaving her alone for a long time." He made to leave, praying that Lightning would follow him, but—

"Balthier, wait." Her voice sounded… different. Younger… he turned around, but the only other person in the room was Lightning… it must have been the Mist getting to him. She took a few steps forward. "I know you have the general idea of how it feels to live forever, but… After leaving Mustadio and going back to Pulse, only to be forced away by my friends, I've come to realize that… there's nothing left for me. There's no reason for me to continue living this life I never even wanted."

_I'm so sorry, Lightning… I would make it up to you, I would do anything I could to help you, but_… Other Balthier looked on in anguish, his pain only deepening as she continued.

"I've tried for many years to kill myself, but all attempts were failures. It's only now that I've discovered my escape…" Lightning closed her eyes and bit her lip, looking, for once, like a young girl, rather than a soldier. "I need you to do me a favor."

"And that, being…?" he cocked his head, though Other Balthier urgently begged him not to follow through with what both of them already knew what she was going to ask.

"Eternal can only be killed by their own kind. When I killed Feolthanos years ago, I lost my one chance at death. But then I met _you_," she began.

_I was still alive then, Light. Don't tell me you were thinking about this when you killed him back then,_ Other Balthier groaned. _Don't ask him, he's not what you think he is…_

She placed her hand directly over the medallion in the undead pirate's chest, and memories and nightmares so recently buried came bursting out of their shallow graves. The Dancer was in front of him—no, they had disposed of her, ripped her bloody and—did they? Maybe he missed. The leading man never misses though… he flinched at the feel of her warm palm against the medallion.

"Just one thing, that's all I ask. _Kill me_," she whispered.

"No," both he and his doppelganger replied the moment what she said registered in their minds. "Light, I can't—"

"I can't live with myself anymore! Please, do this just for me! You're the only one who can save me!" she begged, her face transformed by her distress and desperation. She looked very beautiful when she was upset.

"I'm not who you think I am, nor am I like you," Balthier tried to warn her that he could feel _that_ part of him awakening. The part that belonged to the Madness and breathed its giddy corruption and delighted in its horrifying, exhilarating power was stirring as the Mist— "This curse was by my own will; not the gods," it was a struggle to hear himself over his own screams as his Madness self clawed at his mind, struggling for control and shrieking warnings. Other Balthier seemed to sense his inner turmoil, touching his arm concernedly but cursing as his hand only drifted through Balthier's elbow.

Lightning looked down toward his chest, toward the ornate edge of the medallion protruding just out of his skin. "No…" she whispered, caressing the edge of it tenderly. She raised her head to meet him and—The Dancer smirked, pulling her grey, dead lips away from her jagged teeth. "You have to be like me."

His eyes, brown shot through with silver, like broken glass, darted toward her fingers, toying dangerously with the medallion that housed his soul. She was right there in front of him, Penelo-who-was-not-Penelo, and so vulnerable—his hands shot out and he snarled, grasping at her neck. She was solid beneath his fingers, he could do it this time, but she pulled away—he pinned her to the ground, shifting his grip from her neck to her arms and shoulder to give him a better target. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed—she was scared? No playing around this time—he would go straight for the jugular.

Penelo-who-was-not-Penelo struggled against him and he cursed his lack of weight as she was easily able to reach up and grab a hold of his hair, pulling his head back and thrusting her knee into his solar plexus. His breath whooshed out as he was stunned—now not only fighting her, he was fighting himself, fighting his own body to breathe—

There was a gunblade in his stomach and his back was to the wall. Black blood—his blood—poured down the blade and splashed on the floor, coating the hands of Penelo-who-was-not-Penelo. She backed away from him, and he easily pulled the blade out and tossed it aside. It was just a toy to him, after all. She was running away, and in a burst of speed he was upon her again, pinning her to the wall.

"Balthier," she gasped, suddenly terrified. He did not understand, he _could not_ understand, and his Madness self was confused as it sifted her fear scent, devouring it and gaining strength to do the final deed— "Balthier, _please…_" Did she want to live, or die? It was all so convoluted and confusing and he did not understand.

All he did see and, at the moment, all he understood was the red blood trickling down her shoulders, streaming out of her throat as he tore into her. That should have done it but—the blood was disgusting and he was rewarded for all his effort by a very sharp, pointy elbow in the eye.

_You are not yourself, man. Pull yourself together—this is not you._ Other Balthier was there, standing over Penelo-who-was-not-Penelo, protecting her.

He wanted to tell Other Balthier he was wrong—his normal self and his Madness self were the two halves that made him whole, but he could not find the vocabulary to express that thought. All he could do was glare at him with hate-filled eyes—he hated that Other self who understood so much and so little, but most of all, he hated himself.

An arrow whizzed by his face, and he whirled to face Fran. She always got in the way…

"_Peace, my partner_," she whispered in Vieran. "She means no harm."

Penelo-who-was-not-Penelo was picking herself up from the floor, the broken, mangled mess—she was going to do him in, at last. He snarled defiance.

_Let her go. I will guide her from here. _Other Balthier moved toward Penelo-who-was-not-Penelo, who changed to become—

Lightning.

"_Go,_" Balthier finally found his voice—tried to warn— "_Get out of my sight!_" It came out as a threat. "_Stay away from me!_" He did not want to hurt her, he was starting to see past the Dancer—Lightning stared at him in horror—but his Madness self, drunk with fear, would rend her to pieces. Other Balthier, whom he envied for his calm, collected exterior (Balthier was struggling to find his own calm, to soothe the Madness self that was terrified) took the hand of Penelo-who-was-not-Penelo and vanished into the Mist.

The Madness self was a child—a lost, hopeless child.

* * *

><p>Balthier awoke to Vieran song pouring into his ear, and he stirred faintly in Fran's arms. He was covered in his own black blood, and red blood too, but he didn't remember how it all got there.<p>

_Well done._ Other Balthier crouched on a rock nearby, his face twisted in embitterment. _She's gone, and I know not where, while I am stuck to you, a mad man and a monster._

"I'm not a monster."

_Oh, really?_

"Ragnarok was once a part of you—you should understand. I don't… I don't remember what happened, just… the Madness—"

"Ssh…" Fran hushed him at the same time as Other Balthier. "If you are that concerned, why don't you seek her out? Aid you, I will, for you will have much need of it, I think."

_She will wait,_ Other Balthier sighed. _She will wait for eternity to get what she wants… it is so very sad…_

"I suppose it is our duty to cheer her up, then…" Balthier sighed, pressing his hands to his eyes. There was a long, uphill road ahead…


	5. Court of Wings

GYAH! It's 11 pages long! Tango-chan, feel free to chop it into tiny pieces, because seriously, this was like ramble central. I squeezed too many ideas in... Ah, I'm so sick right now, this came out really wierd. I am conte

Thanks for reading and reviewing, **emeraldonyxdragon**-san! You are so nice because these stories are probably really random for you but you read them and comment on them anyway. I am so happy... And congrats on picking up on the **Crucible** references in here.

Note of names: Alar means "of wings." Thus the title. Originally **Can't Tell Right from Wrong** but I thought that was lame.

* * *

><p>"Well, this ain't something one sees every day."<p>

"Sod off." Balthier muttered to his stein of ale.

"I ain't meanin' no disrespect, ser. You jus' don' see bounty hunters in here too much, 'specially famous 'uns." The bartender shrugged, polishing a dirty mug with an equally dirty rag. "Most of 'em all go up to Highstreet, up near the town square. They've got the Hunter's boards for Marks all up there."

Balthier, comfortable in his current position as a bounty hunter, simply nodded his response to the bartender's verbal barrage. The man must be lonely, he decided, for he would not shut up and leave him in peace.

"Get this," the bartender leaned toward him, a secret twinkling in his eyes. "They say a famous bounty hunter was executed here a century ago, and then," he leaned closer. Balthier leaned back fractionally. "They say he _rose from the grave._"

"Did he, now?" Balthier said disinterestedly. He had no need for anyone to tell him his own story, after all.

"They've got marks out for 'im, now, but no one can catch 'im. Are you here to take up the hunt to try?"

Balthier drained the last of his drink and rose, setting a gold piece on the table. "Really, what need have I to hunt myself? Rather silly, don't you think? I bid you good day," he said. The man's eyes glittered as he saw the gold, and he quickly stashed the coin in his apron pocket.

"An' a good day t' you too, ser. I won't tell anybody I saw y' here today."

Balthier casually sauntered down the street toward the town square. He had spent the last year retracing his steps through all the places he had met the Eternal, Lightning Farron, and all the places zombies and skeletons frequented, but he did not find her there. He was not surprised, though. She was not one of the ranks of decaying, walking corpses wandering Ivalice, not as he was.

Fran met him in a small side street just off the town center, a small paper in her hands. The ghostly apparition of Other Balthier stood by her shoulder, looking extremely pleased with himself.

"Did you find a suitable mark?" Balthier asked, leaning against the wall of the alley.

"Indeed, one I thought might interest you." Fran handed him the paper, and he took in the crude sketch of a woman with red wings and a red tunic, with rose-pink hair.

_The Phoenix_, Other Balthier remarked smugly. _She's not been called that for years. Looks like someone found her, though since when has she had _wings_?_

"Probably someone saw her wearing her trench coat, bearing down upon them, and the loose ends of it looked like wings," the sky-pirate-disguised-as-bounty-hunter remarked. "She's been hiding in the Glabados Ruins? What is in there that she could want?"

"The auracite of the Eternal, Feolthanos, once resided there. Perhaps in his presence, she finds comfort." Fran suggested. "I might warn you—there are many mark hunters now out for your head, and mine. It grows difficult to make a bold move without attracting their attention."

"You don't say. Even bartenders in cheap taverns have heard about it. We had better lay low."

"What of the _Strahl_? Airships no longer ply the skies as they used to. She will garner much attention." Fran said quietly, turning away from him to watch the street bustle. Thanks to the Water of Youth, she hadn't changed at all, not in four centuries.

"As is warranted," he replied, "The _Strahl_ was always my best girl, though she will never replace my leading lady."

"And she is?"

"Why, you of course." Balthier smiled, placing a cold hand on her hip and resting his chin against her shoulder.

"And the Eternal?"

"Jealous, are we? She cannot replace you, my dear, not at all, not ever. Have you forgotten our relationship? I have not known her for four centuries, not as I have you," he said. "I feel kindred to her, though. She understands—most of the time."

_I would that you try to pull her from the demons within her own mind,_ Other Balthier said quietly. _I have had to do so before, but never from something as deep as I now suspect._

Balthier stretched, his back popping loudly, and he exhaled deeply with relief. "What makes you think I'll do any better? She's very frightened of me, but… if that's what you want, let us get a move on, then. Goug is a fair stretch from the ruins, I'm afraid, and it will be hard to get there if we are going by foot alone." He turned away, but Fran paused, turning her nose into the wind and cocking her ears. "Something the matter, dear?"

"I thought I smelled a headhunter in the breeze…"

"Fran, this town is _crawling_ with them."

"It was one of the ones after you, I think."

"Then we had best be careful. Stay somewhere out of sight—and they will keep you out of mind. If you are safe, so am I." Balthier shrugged. "I will be back soon, my heart!"

* * *

><p>Balthier contemplated the ruins below, half buried in a millennia's worth of grit and gods knew whatever else unsanitary. He could smell very faintly the trail Lightning took a few years before, but it was weak and overlaid with the stronger, pungent scents of looters or hunters who came (most likely) for her head. There was the faint rustle of an old scrub bush clinging to the rocky hills behind him—so quiet an ordinary Hume may not have heard it, but he swiftly turned toward the source of the sound, harsh silver eyes piercing the gloomy night.<p>

A rat scuttled out from behind the rocks, vanishing, squeaking, into the night. He waited a moment more, still as the rocks he perched upon, but there were no more disturbances. Sliding down the scree-covered slope, Balthier entered the shelter of the ruins, the shadows returning to him his living appearance.

He wondered what she thought of him. Deep within, somewhere (he could not say in his heart, for he had none), he knew she thought him inhuman—a monster. Balthier paused to contemplate his reflection in a pool of brackish water collecting on the floor. He did not _look_ like a monster—at the moment. He looked young and handsome, but he knew best of all that appearances were deceiving. His silver eyes were faintly luminous in the darkness, reflected back at him like an accusation. Lightning was afraid of those eyes, though he did not know _why_. It was actions, not appearance, that made a monster, but… he had done those actions. Balthier never remembered _exactly_ what happened when he lost control, he only could recall bits and pieces. This time, he vaguely remembered hearing her voice, but he definitely remembered tasting blood almost as bad as that of Snow Villiers. Bitter and fouled by god-magicks…

_That was Lightning's blood_, Other Balthier said somewhat enviously. _You are lucky, for _I _never tasted it, though Ragnarok often wondered. _

"Then Ragnarok was a fool." Balthier said corrosively as he turned back to the task of attempting to track Lightning over bare rock and carved stone. Eventually, as he wandered deeper into the ruins, there was so little light that he found himself following his ears and nose more than his eyes. He was getting close, but… when he found her, what would he say? I am sorry? Forgive me?

_The reward for apologizing to Lightning simply is only going to be a punch_, the ghost following him said regretfully.

"But hiding things from her is equally bad," Balthier replied, massaging his jaw in reminiscence of the time she punched him so hard she'd broken the bone free. Granted, in his skeletal form he was a little more fragile than necessary, though extremely resilient. When he turned a corner, he thought he saw a flash of red vanishing down the other end of the corridor, though he could not be sure because it was too dark.

However, a faint scent of roses (though it was nearly obscured with the smell of grime) convinced him of what he saw, and he set off quickly down the corridor, covering the length of the hall in less time than it took for a certain queen to scream for beheadings, and when he turned another corner—

He almost tumbled headlong into filthy Hume wearing a torn red trench coat, sporting a ragged, tangled mop of the dirtiest pink hair he had ever seen. Wide blue eyes stared back into silver for what must have been one heartbeat, then another, before Lightning (for it could only be she) turned on the heel of her worn boots and dashed away down the hall.

"Wait!" he cried, going after her, but she had vanished. "Damn!" he swore passionately. After a year or two of wandering around here, of course she knew every secret passage there was to know in the ruin. There was nowhere to go—he hit a dead end, and her scent vanished completely.

An hour later, Balthier decided that he was lost. He had begun to become suspicious of the faint scratching noises following him wherever he went, but whenever he turned, there was nothing there.

Something wet dropped onto his shoulder, then promptly began to burn at his skin, corroding it away and steaming as it ate at his dead flesh. This drop was followed by another, then another, then—a brief shower of Holy water left him incapacitated on his knees, clutching his hands over his face as his skin burned as if covered in liquid fire—he could not resist as someone bound his hands and stuffed a gag between his teeth. Balthier snapped feebly at the man who put his fingers so close to his mouth, but a spell of vertigo forced him to lay his head on the much more secure floor.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the bounty hunter who rose from the dead. He fell right into our trap!" Balthier raised his eyes and tried to focus his blurry vision on the headhunter's face. His eyes must have been burned by the Holy water—he could not see properly. "What a pretty penny we'll make tonight. You'll stand trial, ser, no doubt about it, and then—"

"_Crunch!_ An' this time, you'll stay in the ground!" A green bangaa laughed hysterically.

"Ser, we've got his accomplice," another headhunter dragged a thin boy in sturdy workman's pants and a practical tan shirt into the chamber. Balthier closed his eyes, immediately recognizing the dirty braid.

_Mustadio?_ Other Balthier was equally astonished. _What is _he _doing here?_

"I'm not his associate!" From the sound of it, Mustadio was struggling against his captors. "I am no heretic! Let me go!" This was followed by a solid whack, then there was silence.

* * *

><p>Balthier awoke in a prison cell, lying prostrate on a narrow prison bench. Bandages covered every visible inch of his skin, and his whole body throbbed with pain. He was weak—he could barely move. So much for trying to find Lightning if she did not want to be found.<p>

"You are awake!" Mustadio quickly joined him, grasping his hands. "You must have a plan for escape, because that's what sky pirates do, don't they?"

"I have, for once, no plans," Balthier replied faintly, struggling to become more aware. The Holy serum running through his veins prevented that, however.

"Shall we wait a while? You don't look very well… besides the bandages, of course. You've aged a bit. There's grey in your hair."

_You need to eat a little more and get a whole lot of bandages…_

"Damn you, Snow Villiers, you have jinxed me." Balthier gingerly risked moving his head to better see Mustadio through blurred eyes. "How—no, _why_ are you here?"

The boy (well, in all reality, he was a _man_ now) shrugged. "Light _left_ me _behind_. How am I supposed to feel about that?"

"I'm sure she thought to pay you back later." Balthier shut his good eye, smiling faintly, and changed the subject. "You've grown up."

"Thank you." Mustadio smiled proudly, then frowned, looking through cracks in the thick wooden door. "Why is the prison so full?"

"It would appear we have finally been caught up in the famous heretic trials. Word has it that there are traitors within the ranks of those who follow Faram, who would tear down the very foundations of Ivalice and replace it with chaos. Hysteria has been sweeping the continent… hundreds have been executed." Balthier replied. Other Balthier shook his head, muttering about wild dreamhare chases.

There was a pause, then a rattle as a guard came by and shoved a tray of food under the door. Mustadio picked up the tray and stared with little appetite at the mush that passed for food.

"There is a cup of blood here." His tone was one of disgust—Balthier cringed inwardly.

"I can't imagine why. Just toss it out the window… mind you don't hit anyone walking below." It pained him to tell the boy a lie, but it had to be done. If Mustadio learned about the nature of his companion… well, Balthier wasn't hungry, anyway. Once again, thanks to the Holy serum.

Outside in the hall, he heard scuff of resisting feet on the stone floor, and the grunts of men trying to shunt someone in front of them. The cell door banged open and they tossed a woman in with them, sprawling on the floor, then—

"Light!" Mustadio cried, grabbing her shoulders and helping her sit up against the wall. "How did you get here?"

"…I got myself captured," she said in a cracked voice, "Trying to help you." Mustadio snatched the chipped mug of water and held it to her lips, and she drank thirstily, if only to wet her throat after two years of silence.

"I daresay that didn't go very well." Balthier drawled, and she drew away from him to the other side of the cell. He caught a glimpse of her blue eyes, filled with fear and despair. "Light…" he shifted onto his side, wincing slightly as he was barely able to do even that. "I understand that you are afraid of me, and that our parting words last time were rather harsh, but… there are things that have happened that you don't understand."

"You're mad." Lightning said simply. "That is all I need to know."

"I…" Balthier began, then stopped. It was the truth—he found it out the hard way. He was mad, so very, very mad, but it was a part of him, and he pitied the Madness creature too much.

"Light…" Mustadio touched her shoulder in concern, and she shut her eyes. He bit his lip uncertainly, then said in a stronger voice, "Why did you leave me? I thought—" he choked and stopped, breathing hard. "I thought we were _happy_ together…"

"We were," she looked away from him. "That is why I had to leave. I am an Eternal, Mustadio; even if I were to love, all those I love would wither and pass away. I didn't want to see that; not with you."

"Do you have _any_ idea what I went through? I thought it was something wrong with me! Ramza looked as if he were going to kill me when he found out you left! And what about Alma and Agrias? Did you think about them? They were your friends!"

Lightning shut her eyes tighter, as if to block his accusations, but was spared from having to answer when the door rattled open once more. Hands grasped at Balthier's arms, hauling him to his feet, and the prison guards dragged him down the hall into the courtroom.

* * *

><p>He stood at the stand with Lightning and Mustadio nearby, and the judge brought the court to order. The banners of the Church of Glabados hung everywhere, from every chair, every chandelier, every pillar—<p>

"Balthier Bunansa, you are called here today to answer the accusation that you are a heretic, loyal to the fell angel Ultima. What have you to say?"

Balthier raised his head to look Judge Alar in the eyes. By the judge's side, a small man with white hair laced his hands before his face. "I wish to see my accuser."

"That is not the question. Are you a heretic, or were you ever considered a heretic?"

"I will answer in a way that I can, but I would see my accuser f—"

"That is not the question!" the judge slammed his gavel into the desk, and Mustadio jumped. Lightning stiffened. Balthier gave them a twisted smile.

"I have no answers," he said softly.

"_That does not answer the question._ I should think you have answers, if you are before this court. You will answer the questions, Mister Bunansa." Alar's small, blue eyes glinted angrily.

"Please, that was my father."

"Then you refuse to answer?"

"Yes."

"Do you hold this court in contempt?"

"I do."

"Take him away, we shall continue this later. Bring up the boy!" Alar slammed his gavel onto the desk and the sound rattled horrendously in Balthier's skull. His breath tripped, and the Madness smiled.

_Come, Ffamran, take my hand. You don't have much time… you know what is going to happen. Mustadio and Lightning cannot lie, and the boy cannot stand under the eyes of the court. There is only one way you can hope to assist them… Come with me, Ffamran, and we will be out of here before you know it_, he said in his quiet, silky voice.

They dragged Mustadio up to the stand just as they pulled Balthier down from it. His head swam and he nearly collapsed, but as he passed Lightning, she touched his arm gingerly, as if afraid he would attack, but still concerned. As the guards pushed him out of the courtroom, he heard Alar's dry, nasally voice say,

"Outsider, you are accused today of heresy and of the desire to wrench Ivalice onto a path of evil and darkness. What have you to say?"

"Who has said this?" Mustadio sounded outraged as the door slammed shut.

* * *

><p>Weak and starving, Balthier could not do much more than lie on the bunk miserably and feel himself shrivel away. His vision swam almost feverishly, and Mustadio wavered in and out of view, and occasionally, Lightning, too. Too weary to even stay conscious anymore, he allowed himself to slip away, feeling the warm play of the sun on his tired face—or perhaps those were fingers. He welcomed the touch all the same.<p>

In the void, there was only one place to go. Of course, one could choose any direction and walk, but it made no difference—no matter where he went, he always ended up in the same place. Balthier supposed that this inner state was part of his insanity. This "inner world" never changed—the watery path reflecting bright stars that were vacant in the pitch-black sky was a wavering, shifting plain, but there were never any different stars. He'd learned early on that all that was reflected in the water was a lie. The fact that he was fleshless and his reflection was not was proof—then there was the "inner most world."

After walking an indeterminate amount of time in a random direction, Balthier eventually reached a lone sphere floating in the middle of the nothingness. It glowed red and was slightly egg shaped, ghostly wisps floating from the cracks in its scaly covering, giving it the appearance of constantly fraying. This was it—this was his soul, what him Balthier. He touched it tentatively and was pulled forcefully inside, opening his eyes to view the sideways city of Archades. The sky met the path somewhere above his head, but he stood on a building that jutted straight out from that path. Like all Archadian buildings, they were built from red stone and packed together to make the most of the cramped space, such that, even sideways, they formed a sort of floor (though there were alleys one had to jump).

In this particular world, the rules were different. Here, Balthier's appearance was that of a young boy, his vulnerability painfully evident—for this was not his world, where he had complete control.

It was that of the Madness.

Where the creature was, it was never easy to tell. Its nest, built in the crumbled ruins of the sideways palace, was empty. Behind the wall of the path (which was once the ground) something moved, and he instinctively moved away from it, thinking of his own preservation. A slight disturbance alerted him to another presence besides himself (for the Madness was part of him) within the city, and he could sense the Madness suddenly surge for it, away in the distance. Curious, Balthier followed it to find Lightning standing alone by the wall of water.

She was standing on a sideways building, staring at the wall that used to be the ground, talking to someone who looked very much like Balthier himself as a healthy adult—only, he was behind the wall of water. Lightning's voice carried through the empty void easily as she questioned the Madness, disguised as Balthier, about the place.

"Why are you here?" she whispered, her eyes filled with sorrow.

The creature, wearing Balthier's face, smiled sadly. "I was trapped here by the Madness. You know I would never want to hurt you, Light—I would never _dream_ of it, but _it _would."

"You mean… the person who attacked me wasn't you?" Lightning sounded relieved. "I didn't want to believe it, of course, but I—I was frightened…"

"No," the Madness answered, sensing imminent victory. "It was the Madness—he drove me to it, and always has. How I wish the beast would leave me be—I never wanted this. I never wanted any of it, but the curse…" he choked, as if overcome by emotion. Balthier scowled.

"The curse brought it on." Lightning nodded understandingly.

"Yes. I wish—I wish I could leave. I _can _leave, but I will need your help. You can do this, Light, you must believe me, and you must trust me. Do not fear, for I have no designs that would bring you harm." His voice was soothing, and he catered to her fears, smoothing away any anxieties. However (Balthier grinned), Lightning was not stupid—she could sense a plot afoot. Her brows furrowed.

"What," she said carefully, "Would I have to do?" An edge of suspicion entered her voice.

"It is not safe here," the creature made a show of looking about uneasily. "The Madness could return any moment, and if he finds you here… he could eat you, you know. You aren't actually here—your soul is. And if he ate _that_…"

"I would die…" Lightning sounded oddly wistful, but worried at the same time.

"Come with me—the other side of the wall is safe, I think," he extended his hand to her, but Balthier realized what the creature's game was. In a blur of motion and panicked thought, he was at Lightning's side, and he grabbed her around her waist and pulled her away from the wall, just as she was about to touch the false Balthier's outstretched fingers.

The creature's face turned very ugly then, his smile warping into a twisted sneer. "Meddling as usual, I see, Ffamran."

"Of course," Balthier grinned as Lightning turned around, her eyes wide as she stared. "Don't touch him, Light. If you do, you will become as I—believe it or not, madness is contagious. He must not touch your soul."

"Balthier? What—if you are here—who is that?" Lightning turned back toward the doppelganger.

"Oh, shut it. You hardly know what you're on about." The Madness Creature pushed past the wall then, and it rippled about his body as he came through it. "You've ruined the game, Ffamran. I am _hungry_. You've not been eating lately, and I feel it."

Its true form, when out of the traitorous water, was that of a sphinx—a human head, and a winged, tawny lion's body. Its tail, however, was scaled and tipped with a living snake's head. His eyes, brown with silver cracks, glinted with malice as he advanced upon them. Balthier, a firm grip on Lightning's hand, retreated. The monster leered at them, a smile almost too wide for a human face upon its lips. As part of Balthier's soul, it wore his face at all times.

"Ha ha… ha ha ha! Wine or ale? Your blood or your soul? To eat, or not to eat? Shall I cut off your head and drink from the pool, or fill you full of holes? So many decisions, I cannot decide! Is she sweet, or is she bitter, filled with love or… sorrow?" The creature vanished in a blur of speed and reappeared behind them, drool dripping from its jaws. "You're a bitter old woman, Lightning Farron! You left your little boy behind, left him to wither and weep. Bitter and believing there's nothing left, you're done! Finished! Curtain call! _Ffamran! Play your violin! I want to dance to the music of her falling blood!_" the creature was screaming now, and Balthier was, too, his hands over his ears and his eyes squeezed shut. "I want to rip the world down and fill it with the sweet sound of our music. And you will help me, Lightning Farron. You're a lost soul searching to fill your empty heart, and I—I can fill it for you!"

"You're wrong!" Lightning shouted to the empty void. Her voice echoed over the abandoned city. The creature was gone, not even a tawny feather left behind. Balthier shivered as Lightning laid a hand on his thin back, struggling to regain a semblance of his composure. "I won't listen to your lies. I have everything I want, and more. You're the lost soul here!" There was no answer, and she collapsed to her knees, as if exhausted.

"Talking to empty space? People will start to think you're going mad." Balthier finally managed to croak.

"You are one to say so." Lightning sighed. "You are all right now?"

"Everything seems to be in working order. But, tell me of what happened after they took me back. Did Alar come to a decision?"

"That judge seems to think _everyone_ is a heretic, evidence or no evidence. He wishes to question you again, and that will decide…" she stopped, taking a shaky breath.

"Decide…?" he prompted gently.

"They will decide if Mustadio will live, or die. That judge is pretentious, but he's not stupid. He saw the resemblance between you two right away. Depending on your answers to his questions tomorrow, he will choose to save you, or condemn you."

"The truth, or lies? What would you have me do?" Balthier raised his head to look at her tiredly, seeming old despite his youthful appearance in the madness realm.

"The right thing." Lightning answered, squeezing his hand tentatively.

"Right or wrong is relative, my dear," he said in a dead voice, dropping his head again. "Who decides good and bad?" He wanted to tell her he didn't know right from wrong any more, but she wouldn't understand. The Other Balthier told him many things—she had betrayed both he and Ragnarok to Lindzei, albeit unknowingly, for the "right" thing. But, Mustadio… surely saving Mustadio would be the "right" thing? That is, Mustadio living out the end of his short, natural life—surely that was the "right" thing? The boy, if allowed to live, would only live sixty years longer, and sixty years passed in the blink of an eye. Surely it wouldn't make a difference, sixty years or so?

Lightning narrowed her eyes. "Are you feeling alright, Balthier?"

"…my blood is black." He was dizzy with hunger. The thought of Mustadio, live, young Mustadio, was making him salivate.

"Pardon?"

"What is the 'right thing'? Mm… to eat or not to eat. Don't worry, Light. I will do what is best for all of us." He smiled at her and rose to his feet, walking toward the exit of the madness world. He would do what was right, and wouldn't they be surprised?

"You're mad!" Lightning sounded horrified. A bitter smile crawled onto his face.

"Don't I know it?" he asked. "Now, are you going to come? I shall have to have some words with myself about inviting people into my own mind—my _other_ self, that is."

* * *

><p>Balthier awoke as someone propped his head up and held a cup to his lips, tilting his head back and pouring some warm liquid into his mouth.<p>

"You are certain that is going to help him?" Mustadio's voice came to him as if from a great distance. "He looks terrible—he looks like he's a hundred years old."

"Not eating will do that to you," said Lightning. "Trust me, it is better he drinks this than if he nibbled on you."

"Light?" he coughed weakly, though he was feeling better already. "What are you—"

"Hush. They are coming soon. I am putting my trust in you, Balthier."

He frowned—silly, naïve Lightning! "You really shouldn't." he coughed, "I betrayed a little girl once." He had been so cold and callous, and Lightning was putting her trust in him? "You know what is in here, Light. The ghost of your man dragged you in to see." he placed a thin, trembling hand over the medallion. "How can you trust me when…_that_ can arise without warning? In my present condition, is this wise?"

Lightning stroked his hair away from his eyes with warm fingers. "I am willing to take the risk." A pause. "What do you mean, 'the ghost of my man'?"

"Exactly what I said." Other Balthier materialized at that point, looking harried, but pleased.

_Our preparation is ready—Fran will come. You just have to buy time, and then we will away._ His grin was bright and cheerful, as if just the thought of executing a well-thought plan was enough to make him happy.

"Good. I suppose I had best get moving, then?" Balthier took the cup from Lightning and drained it, straightening his vest and doing his best with his fingers to arrange his hair into a passing semblance of normalcy. Judging from his reflection in the cup of water, there was still a faint hint of grey in his hairline, but nothing lasting. The guards were coming to take them away—again—and as they were taken to the court, Lightning nudged his ribs with her elbow none too gently.

"Remember what I asked of you." There was warning in her eyes.

"I know, I know." He would not lie—not to her.

* * *

><p>"Balthier Bunansa, your child's life hangs in the balance." Beside him at the stand, Lightning snorted quietly, and Balthier lightly stepped on her foot. She shook her head slightly, but did not retaliate. He turned his attention back to Judge Alar's pompous face in time to hear the tail end of his accusation. "Are you in the employ of the demon Ultima? You must do the right thing." The Madness uncoiled in his chest.<p>

_Come, come, play for me. Sing the song of our triumph, Ffamran! For all to hear! Let the black blood beat strong through your veins!_

"My blood is black." Balthier said quietly. Lightning's head shot up, and she turned toward him, alarm dancing in her eyes. Mustadio was looking at him, too, but he was too ignorant to be afraid, but the woman, she knew…

"I cannot hear you." Alar snarled.

"My blood is black!" Balthier shouted this time, and the Madness shouted, too. "Who determines right or wrong? The truth was lost long ago, since the age of the Dynast Queen. Right and wrong is determined by people in positions of high authority, who immediately put their enemies in the wrong, and they themselves are in the right—and the populace is forced to follow like pigs to the slaughter. I cannot tell right from wrong because I recognize no authority and state it is relative to the party—does that make me evil?"

"Ser," the bailiff turned toward the judge. "He is clearly not in his right mind—"

"My name is Balthier Bunansa, Godless Thief am I, for all my gods are dead and I am all that remains of their faded power. My blood is black and the world will burn for creating the monster I am!" he threw his head back and laughed, the Madness screaming gleefully. "I am a heretic!"

A great murmur went up from the panel of judges, and Alar's eyes glinted greedily. "So you admit it!"

"Freely! A weight has been removed from my chest at the admission, too!" Balthier cried, and it was the truth—the Madness had taken flight. His eyes jittered in their sockets, and jumped around the room as he searched for the three eyes—burning eyes—he was drowning and the Madness was standing over him, drooling with hunger and glee—

"Will you tell us the names of other heretics? Your confessions will aid you on your path to cleansing and creating for you a pure soul—"

A lie if he ever heard one. His soul was a kishin egg and there was no undoing _that_. But this lie wouldn't hurt.

"When Ultima comes to you, do you see anyone else with her?" Alaric asked.

"Yes, I see many, many people." Balthier gasped with ecstasy, and Lightning put a hand over his own, as if reminding him to behave.

"Who? _Confess,_ man!"

"I saw Judge Alar with Lady Ultima!" the Madness screamed. A great outcry went up from the stands in the courtroom at that, and Alar looked horrified. Lightning's hand was like an iron vice on his wrist. "I saw the High Cleric of Orbornne with Lady Ultima!" A knightly young man jumped to his feet.

"Lies!" his voice rose above the clamor and was promptly drowned.

Ah… and here was the coup. "_I saw Ajora of Glabados with Lady Ultima!_"

The white haired man by Alar's elbow stood swiftly. "Seize him! Shut him up! _Shut him up!_" The court had erupted into chaos that the insistent bang of the Judge's gavel only escalated, and in the center of it, the Madness laughed as Lightning and Mustadio clung to him in the midst of the maelstrom. He turned cracked brown and silver eyes to her and smiled a sharp-toothed grin as the ceiling collapsed under the weight of the _Strahl_'s anchor.

"I told you I would do the right thing," he said, moving toward the anchor chain to climb into his ship. "I told you I could fill your empty heart."

"No," Lightning shook her head, her face horrified. "No!" But she climbed up after him anyway.

* * *

><p>The white paper moon hung like a gigantic globe in the sky, low over what had once been called the Phon Coast. After a close call involving Mustadio panicking and nearly shooting him with a Holy infused bullet, Balthier's ragged flesh steamed from the heat of the fire (Lightning had quickly and efficiently drowned him in the sea for his antics in the courtroom) while Fran tended to a large bruise Mustadio had acquired during their great escape. Lightning sat between the undead sky pirate and his doppelganger's descendant, but did not look at either of them. Mustadio constantly looked from her to Balthier, then away again, pursing his lips and blushing madly as Fran's long fingers brushed against his arm.<p>

"Why did you come back, Mustadio, other to harangue me?" Lightning said after a long silence, as Fran rose to sit next to her partner.

"I wanted to see you again." the boy's eyes were still glued to Fran's ears, and Balthier kept his tired eyes on the ground, toying with a piece of grass, braiding it with bony fingers. "I didn't want to believe that you might not have wanted to be with me anymore."

"Spoken like a child." Lightning muttered.

"I _was _a child when you left, Light! How long has it been? A year? Two? Three? I've grown up! I know that to you and Balthier and Fran, I will never be old enough to be considered an adult, but human lives are short." Mustadio exploded.

"Don't get me involved," Balthier growled, curling his toes into the sand. "After all, I was the one who said to enjoy your time with him. And then what—you left right afterward." There were a multitude of ragged strings on his cuffs, and he idly began to tug at them. Lightning slapped his hands away from his sleeves almost out of habit, and Other Balthier, sitting behind her in the sand, smiled.

"The sun will rise soon, and with the sun, the hunt for us will be on." Fran informed them. "What will we do?"

"We can distract them," Balthier lay back in the sand, wincing as some of the grains ground against his vertebrae. "If we throw them off the scent, Lightning will have her time with her little boy."

"Balthier, you're going to leave?" Mustadio asked, raising his eyebrows.

"I do as I must—it is not safe for you to be with me, and Light knows that best of all," he replied. Lightning nodded, rubbing her neck self-consciously.

"How long can you run? They will catch you, one day." Lightning said quietly.

"I can run as long as I must—whatever happens, we can outlast them."

"Let us make good on our head start. We have a strong tailwind." Fran said, climbing up the ladder into the _Strahl_. "The distinct lack of airships will give us another advantage."

"We will meet again, Lightning, I am sure of it, in this world, or another." Balthier shrugged as he turned away. She did not reply, nor did she meet his eyes, but Mustadio waved wildly.

The glossair rings squealed and shrieked as the whirred to life, and in an explosion of sound, Lightning and Mustadio were shrinking figures on a distant beach in the brightening day.


	6. Black Blood and Red Rose

So, this is the beginning of the end to the Eternally Cursed series, however, this is totally toing star wars and putting the end first because Tango-chan and I still have a few ideas we want to do. I feel like I haven't updated in a looooong time. Curse school. I've stayed up until 2:00 a couple of times now. But, I got good grades mostly on what I stayed up to do, so I am pleased. Thanks to **Tango-chan**, my brain buddy, for doing this collab series with me!

Cheers, Mu.

* * *

><p>Balthier crouched in the remains of the <em>Strahl<em>, checking mist gauges that crackled with only the weakest amount of energy. Auracite glinted in the gloom, sucking in what little Mist existed anymore. The _Strahl_ would likely never fly again. He tilted his head up, toward the sunlight filtering through the dusty glass above the ship. The sky was far away, he decided, laying back on the hard ground and stretching his fingers for the light. Almost unattainable. Something that could not be reached, something that, once tasted, would haunt him for the rest of his undying life.

Gods, he missed the sky.

Fran, footsteps inaudible, crouched by his head, her face obscured by a long sweep of silk hair. Fingers made not of flesh, but light as air, danced over his face.

"_Awake, dearest Hume._" She breathed Vieran words in his ear, sweeter music than any he'd yet to hear, other than that of the Madness.

"I do not sleep, Fran, only dream while waking of things half-remembered. I cannot see Ashe's face anymore."

"_Memories fade. The only thing that has remained constant is you._"

"_No. I have changed, too._" It is an abomination to speak the words in Vieran. Words of a land of purity, a land with a goddess of life. He ran a finger along a smooth, yet wickedly sharp tooth, gazing at the harshly silver hued eyes that stared back from a distorted reflection in the dusty skylight. It occurred to him that Other Balthier, who was off doing gods knew what, could not see Fran anymore.

"Did you find out when and where the next shipment of auracite is?"

"Dorter, two days hence."

"Fran, you are a marvel."

"I do not deserve your praise."

"Don't be modest, dear heart. Very well, I will go tonight and find _something_ in this wasteland to eat, and be in Dorter by morning, two days from now. Shall I meet you there?"

Fran stood, making her way noiselessly to the window. "_I shall wait outside the city when you make your escape._"

Balthier shut his eyes and dozed, searching for the sleep he knew was beyond reach.

Just like the sky. There were many things he couldn't reach these days.

_I must be getting old_, he thought.

* * *

><p>The trip to Dorter was horrifyingly uneventful. Though, he mused, examining the hume-like creature on the wanted poster nailed to the city walls, it had been amusing frightening the lone bandit on the road through the wastelands before taking a meal. Balthier tilted his head, studying the shadowy sketch. Crude, he decided, dabbing the last of the blood around his mouth away with a clean handkerchief. The only things that stood out on the blurred face were an amazingly beastly looking set of silver eyes and fanged teeth that seemed far too huge to fit into any mouth. His eyes roved over the animalistic curve of the creature's back, unconsciously correcting his own posture. Not that his vest, tightly fitted as usual, allowed for much slouching.<p>

On the other hand, the poster of the Phoenix was much more worthwhile to look at. Sometimes they were so poorly drawn that he would pulled them down to spare the eyes of any other bounty hunter that might look, but this one nearly did her justice. A pale, heart-shaped face, silvery pink hair tumbling about her shoulders, lips slightly parted as she aimed her gunblade at an invisible foe…

Balthier caught himself daydreaming, unsurprised to find the Madness equally as dazed. He gave the creature a mental jab, shaking himself, and wandered into the city. It was warm, and the smell of baking garbage and Hume refuse assailed him, prompting him to wonder what would possess any hume of the notion that Dorter was one of the most prosperous cities in New Ivalice.

"New" Ivalice.

"I wonder what they were thinking when they named the place," Balthier mumbled to himself. There was nothing "new" about it. If anything, it seemed older than "Old" Ivalice, the distinct lack of airships, scent of glossair engine oil, and amount of Moogle technicians highlighting the technology gap and making him horrifically depressed.

The rhythmic thud of a hume heart nearby warned him that he was just about to walk into a trap. Pausing, he tilted his head, ignoring the shiver of disgust at the vaguely predatory gesture as he listened.

The sound of a heart was superficial when compared the music of the soul.

He had never been able to teach Lightning to hear the music, even when the Madness had sung as loudly as it could. The Madness had a very sweet voice, though it sounded more like an orchestra than any hume ever did. Lightning had only ever been able to hear the artificial beating of the hearts, and even then, he was sorry to say she was mediocre. She had grown frustrated with him quickly; a punch ended any forthcoming listening lessons. Balthier blamed it upon the fact that she did not need to live as he did.

Live as beast.

He sighed, shaking his head to dispel the thought. He could pick up the faint pounding of her soul nearby, and the Madness instantly perked up from where it had been sleeping in its nest of ruined buildings. She was surrounded by others, young by his standards, quick and eager to make an "easy" profit off a target that was rather hard to take down. After all, no one had done it before. Successfully, he amended. He had been caught and hanged before.

When he arrived, he found Lightning frozen at gunpoint, her attackers surrounding her, though two of them lay stunned on the ground. He was just in time to hear the tail end of the headhunter's statement:

"He'll come to your rescue, he will."

A swift blow to the back of the ambitious hunter's neck quickly put an end to whatever poorly conceived plan was taking place.

"Too right," Balthier agreed pleasantly, cracking his knuckles menacingly.

"The Godless Thief…" a headhunter, brandishing a spear in a way that was just begging that the spear be relieved from his shaking grip, retreated a few steps. Balthier smiled.

"Now that we've dispensed with the pleasantries, tell me where we'll find the Cache of Glabados." With its power, airships might once again ply the skies.

Lightning rolled her eyes in an exasperated manner. "Always for the theatrics, aren't you?"

Balthier shrugged. Of course; life is a stage. The rest of the bounty hunters quickly fled like so many terrified wyrdhares, and he could not stop himself from laughing at the sight. Something changed in Lightning's face; relief flooded her eyes. Lightning launched herself at him and almost knocked him to the floor, her arms tight about his chest. He sighed, shutting his eyes and resting his chin on her head, while the Madness purred loudly. It took the utmost self-control to stop himself from following suit.

"What? No jaw-breaking and head spinning punch from you this time?" he joked, looking down at her.

"If that's what you really want…" Lightning began, but seeing the glint in her eyes, he quickly shook his head.

"I think I'll wait until I've done something a little more brash for that. On the other hand, you, my dear, cannot stay out of trouble with men, can you?" he grinned.

"I was handling things well enough on my own. I was just… distracted." She scowled, and he easily saw through her lie.

"Is that what they call it nowadays? You must admit it, my dear Light, you are getting rather daft in your old age."

"How are you getting along in yours? If you keep up that sort of talk, you'll get that punch you so long for."

With a flourish, Lightning sheathed her gunblade, turning away from him. He took a moment to admire the way that the sun seemed to illuminate her pale skin before crossing his arms and allowing a long-suffering sigh to escape.

"Light, you know how much I hate it when you hide things from me. Nothing ever goes quite right…"

"You're worse than Fang," Lightning said, dodging his pursuit of her intentions. "Always bothering me." She paused, looking down at her feet in the dusty road. "I don't like seeing guns raised against me. They remind me too much of Mustadio."

_Caught in the past, is she?_ Other Balthier materialized at his shoulder. _Mourning Mustadio? I'd hoped she could avoid it when she left my Ivalice. It really is a shame._

"The pup is not here, is he?" Balthier asked gently, knowing the answer even as he spoke the words.

"You could have told me you didn't have heirs, you know. I'd forgotten you were a lot more dedicated to Fran than my Balthier was."

Balthier cocked his head, slightly confused. _Were_ dedicated to Fran…? Unfortunately, he seemed to be unable to hold onto that thought for very long when the Madness began squirming rather uncomfortably, jarring his thoughts and forcing him to split his attention between placating the creature what Lightning was saying. He promptly forgot the subject.

"Where is Fran, anyway?"

"Waiting for us just outside the city. We should quite this place anyway before more foolish bounty hunters hear that the two highest marks on the board are in town…" he replied as best as he could. Really now, couldn't the maddening creature leave him _alone_ with himself for a while. Of course, it was a part of him… it was himself.

* * *

><p>Lightning led him to a small camp just outside the city, but just before they reached it, she turned around and grabbed his hand.<p>

"Balthier," she began, lowering her voice. "I know that you are often very hungry, but you must promise me that you won't eat any of my companions. They are very, very dear to me."

Balthier huffed indignantly. "You make me sound so uncouth and indecent, Light."

"_Promise_, Balthier!"

"Very well, very well. I promise."

"And you'll keep it." She sent him a glare that surely would have roasted any other being.

When she led him into the firelight, the reactions of her companions almost made him wonder if some sort of fantastically dangerous fiend had followed them into the camp; when he spotted the wanted poster on the ground, he realized that they thought he _was_ a fiend. A young man—a _boy_—leaped to his feet with admirable speed and drew a sword, announcing the sky pirate's immediate beheading. Balthier disregarded him and considered the more threatening words of the Holy spell charging under the guidance of the female knight.

_Enemies!_ Fran warned. _Foes, who would see us dead! Ffamran, do not listen to the she-fox's words!_

"I do not believe that this was the reception she thought we would receive," Balthier replied under his breath. "Why so spiteful, Fran?"

Lightning quickly assured the rest of the knights of his loyalty through friendship (if not to their cause, then at least to her), and, once the boy Ramza gave his grudging acceptance of their new member, settled down by the crackling fire. With a cursory glance to the moon (a new moon), Balthier joined her, plucking stray threads from the gold embroidery on his cuffs. He did not miss the way that Lightning's fingers twitched, and grinned in amusement.

"Two undead beings, a holy knight, a mercenary-turned-knight, and the Thunder God…" the other woman, a slim but muscular little thing named Agrias, remarked. "What an odd arrangement we have."

"It could be worse," Lightning replied. "I once traveled with a gang of sky pirates that were only children. And then the Queen, her knight, and a fool joined the fray."

Balthier remembered that adventure very vaguely; it had happened a few years before he died. He was slightly disturbed that memories from when he was alive were beginning to seem as if he saw them through a fogged windowpane.

"That fool wouldn't happen to be dear old Ice, would it?" he asked, smirking at the thought of Ashe, a nearly faceless name he associated with strength, wisdom, and a certain degree of girlish impudence, with the foolish buffoon called Snow Villiers.

"Do we know any other fools?" Lightning asked in response.

Ramza glanced up from polishing his sword, turning the blade so Balthier could see its sharpness. The Madness scoffed; if it wanted to eat him so badly, that little toy would not stop it.

"You, too, are from Old Ivalice?" Ramza asked.

"I've lived in Ivalice a long time, but not as long as Light. Nearly going on fifteen-hundred, are you?" Balthier nudged her and was rewarded by another flesh roasting, fur-singing glare. The Madness tittered at her discomfort, a noise like bells and chimes.

"Watch it. Just because I didn't punch you before doesn't mean I won't know. And for your information, I've lost count of how old I am." She answered waspishly.

"Hm, and here I thought you kept track of these things."

"I know you don't, either."

"Touché, my dear." Balthier gave her another cat-like grin.

At that point, Cid, the man he remembered as Lightning's mentor in the other Ivalice, changed the subject.

"We are heading below the ground tomorrow. My dearest Phoenix—" Here the Madness growled at his possession of Lightning, and Balthier shushed it irratibly— "is convinced that the Gemini Stone is hidden beneath Goug, and she's quite certain that no man has yet gained its power quite yet."

Lightning explained the nature of Zalera's need to possess two humes with a sad look in her eyes, no doubt thinking of her friends from Cocoon lost to Zalera's fancy. He wondered what they were like before Zalera got his twisted claws on them.

"With the Gemini Stone, we're one step closer to finding Alma," Ramza murmured, longing reflected in his eyes. "Perhaps if Zalera is awakened, we may convince him to join our fight against the Lucavi."

The Madness growled, a sound more akin to that of a large cat rumbling in its chest, Balthier's chest. Lightning cast a warning glare in their direction. Of course, she did not realize who was in there, how absolutely _delicious_ the thought was!

"The undead are not so easily tamed like whimpering pets, boy," the Madness warned, unwilling to enter the cave where Balthier's enemy resided. "You would do well to understand that. Zalera is no patsy; he will readily claim Light and I as his slaves the instant he senses our presence."

Lightning stroked his hair tenderly, and the Madness leaned in slightly, relaxing into her hands yet holding back its urge to purr its pleasure. Should it do that, she would find out and the jig would be up…

"I've warned them, all they need to do is hit us with Holy. That might hurt us a lot more than one would think, but at least we won't try killing anyone."

The Madness considered growling at this; Balthier internally agreed that the last thing he wanted was to be hit with Holy, but alas, Lightning had already spoken for all of them.

When the group divided into watches (Balthier drew the short straw and had to go first with Fran), Lightning rose and entered the tent she shared with Agrias for the night.

As the sounds of camp chatter died down, Balthier was left alone with Fran by the fire. They sat together in companionable silence while the flames crackled and popped like old bones until he broke the silence.

"I find myself following children again. How ironic… I grow tired of it. I shouldn't have to follow children again, Fran. Lightning knows how much I despise them. I swear, if that Ramza whelp crosses the line with his anti-pirate tirades again, I'll…"

"You promised Lightning that you would not eat any of them." Fran reminded him, and he laughed.

"I'm only sharing my opinion, Fran. No need to fret, I shall keep my promise and not have any of her little friends for dinner. Of course, though he is not related to that fool in this world, his blood probably tastes vile, like Baknamy." Balthier grimaced at the memory.

"She's keeping secrets," Fran said quietly.

"Yes, she's quite apt at that, I'll give you that. She is a horrible liar, but has a wonderful lock for her lips when she does not want to give those secrets up." He replied. "She's upset that she doesn't have her precious machinist with her this time around. She has not mentioned how he died…"

Fran fretted with a crease on her arm guards. "You ought to go find something to eat. It may be a while yet before you find a place a populous as Dorter. You could perhaps try to take a little from that girl, Agrias…"

Balthier sighed, resting his cheek in his palm. "No, not right now, Fran. And, I made Lightning a promise, one you just generously reminded me of a few moments ago. Why are you so set on having me feed this soon, other than the fact we don't know when the next time will be?"

"Zalera lies in wait below the city. You will need your strength." Fran shrugged, placing a hand over the crease. When she lifted it, the crease had disappeared.

"Worried about Zalera, are you? I know what will happen should he control my mind; it has happened before, remember? You suggested he do it the second time to help John… I do hope Light knows what she's getting into. She seems rather out of it these days, and I cannot help but fear that something terrible may happen to her one day."

"Never fear; with you protecting her, she will remain safe."

"A pleasant lie, Fran."

* * *

><p>When the day dawned (Ramza had pointedly avoided doing much more than making hostile eye contact when Balthier offered him a sarcastic "good morning"), they descended to the ruined city beneath Goug, avoiding scavengers and treasure hunters who might recognize their faces.<p>

"Remind me why I agreed to come along?" Balthier asked, sorting through the scents of old stones and decaying corpses. He found Lightning's, the smell of roses, sweet and refreshing, and latched on to it.

"Why can't you just admit you've missed being warped between worlds?" Lightning asked with a grin. "At least with me, you're not running around as a skeleton in the middle of the night. Speaking of night: you and… Fran were up late."

Balthier chose to ignore how hesitant she was about mentioning Fran; the mentioned Viera tossed her head of white hair absently.

"Were we?" he raised an eyebrow. "Time waits for no one, you know. Might as well waste it while we can."

"If time waits for no one, what does that leave for us?"

Balthier's lips parted as he considered a response. What _did_ that leave them? Time meant nothing. At least, not to him.

A flash of dark energy interrupted him, and the next thing he knew, Lightning had dragged him off for the rendezvous with Zalera, almost mindlessly.

The seraph was the same that Balthier remembered, hanging in the air like an ominous bat. It laughed in a deep, inhuman voice, teeth glittering in the gloom in a death grin almost identical to the one Balthier wore in the moonlight. Balthier noted with pride that he still had a little flesh (though it was grey and rotting), while Zalera had none.

Then the screams began. The cries like needles, insidious whispers appealing to his hunger for human flesh and blood. The music of sirens with their seductive voices; hands around his neck and around his wrists while the sirens entreated him to enter the sea. The sea…

A new song drowned out their voices, a crashing peal of bells and a screech of violins, tinkling harps and chimes, while the undercurrent of a feral growl rose and fell under it all. Balthier was swept away in the cacophony, and when he opened his eyes again, he found himself sitting on one of the buildings in Archades.

The Madness was waiting for him, its explosion of sound dimmed to a more bearable, melodic hum of instruments that finally faded into a rumbling purr, then silence. The sky flashed and swirled with strange colors of light, purple and noxious green; the colors of Zalera's beck and call. Balthier could barely stop the urge to listen to Zalera's compelling voice when the Madness was suddenly looming over him, a growl rumbling in its chest. A deck of cards sat at its feet, near its hissing snake tail.

"Pick up the cards, Ffamran. Why don't you play?"

"I did not know you were one for cards."

"It is a new game. If you draw the Queen of Hearts, I will allow you to leave and throw away your life in Zalera's servitude, I care not, stupid Ffamran." The Madness chased its tail and leaped at the snake constantly out of reach before rearing up and beating its wings angrily, the air stirring violently.

"If I do not draw a Queen of Hearts?" Balthier questioned, unimpressed.

"Then we both stay here. But if you draw a joker…" the Madness's smirk stretched, exposing its sharp, ripping teeth. "I will be the one to leave."

_Come, here dying, join my legion of undeath. Your blood, the roses on unhallowed graves!_ Zalera's voice was sweet in his ears, promising eternal life in death, something Balthier already had. But it was wasted on a creature like the Madness, a law unto itself.

"The rose wilts in Zalera's grasp. I suggest you take a card." The smirk on the creature's face widened even more, and it began to take on the vague appearance of a fox rather than a Hume face.

"Very well." Balthier reached for the deck, but the Madness exploded into motion, beating its wings and throwing all the cards into the air with a gust of wind. They stayed there, hanging perfectly still in the void, but all of them had their backs turned; skulls smiled at him in various scenes of death.

The Madness purred. "Now you may take a card."

Balthier narrowed his eyes and used a burst of speed to reach the farthest card before the Madness could possibly play any tricks, plucking the card out of the air and flipping it over.

A joker.

The Madness gave a fiendish shriek of glee and took to the sky in a clap of wings, vanishing into the light. The cards simultaneously flipped over to face Balthier, revealing a deck completely of jokers before bursting into flame and raining down as ash. The instant the Madness left, the noxious colors of Zalera's summons disappeared, leaving Balthier utterly alone in the void.

* * *

><p>He felt oddly helpless; the Madness was in control, its vision filled with strange apparitions that it saw from the corner of its eyes but vanished as soon as it turned to look. There were whispers from Zalera's undead army, always whispering and telling stories, but they fell upon deaf ears; the Madness cackled at the voices of the souls, feeding upon their despair.<p>

There was Lightning, too, her back slumped and following orders like all the other skeletons clamoring for a strip of flesh from the living humes. The Madness was enraged by Zalera's claim to Lightning, enraged that another being would dare take its quarry for their own. The Madness did not understand love; it viewed Lightning as a precious piece of prey, something that must be preserved as long as possible before the inevitable; like the last sip of the finest wine. She was like food but not food, something slightly different and infinitely more special, and therefore something to be coveted. Balthier laughed inwardly at the creature's twisted, simplistic reasoning.

But Zalera was attempting to take her away, and the Madness reacted violently.

"_What is this? So easily you resist my will!_" When the Madness darted toward Lightning, Zalera burst out in anger, shaking his bony fist. "_Changed, you have, mad one! Yet you cannot face your own kind, can you? You hide from the truth. Nay, she is not yours to claim!_"

The death seraph's taunts scored deep; the Madness became determined to prove him wrong. If she was not the creature's to claim, surely such a lowly creature as this twisted angel could not claim her either. In a flash, it pinned her to the cave floor, clutching her throat and baring its teeth, biting down—

Lightning jerked in an uncoordinated fashion but successfully managed to fling the Madness bodily across the cave. It landed neatly on all fours, easily adapting Balthier's hume body to suit itself. Delighted with Lightning's possession induced feistiness, the Madness sniggered, exhilarated with the fight. She plunged her gunblade into its chest, thick, black blood splashing from the wound, but it ignored this, lunging forward, sliding along the blade to bite at her neck again.

"_Away from her, fiend!_" Zalera bellowed. "_Begone, she is mine!_"

Yes, yes, he was a fiend, a monster, inhuman, the Madness hissed. _Tell us something we do not already know, great seraph._

Lightning began to struggle beneath him, and the Madness easily snapped her neck with a careless twist of its hands. She collapsed to the ground only her darting eyes belaying the fact she still lived. The Madness crouched over her tenderly, tilting her head slightly so he could see her eyes. Here was a sky that they could reach; eyes of sky blue. But they were filled with fear, and hate, but it did not belong to her, of course. Perhaps the fear belonged to her, but not the hate, no, that belonged to Zalera… at least, that was what the Madness hoped. Balthier knew that Lightning was afraid of the creature, afraid of the thing that could end her life with a greedy snap of its jaws… they stroked her face, her warm, soft skin, mesmerized by the feeling.

Holy burned and ate at dead flesh. Both Balthier and the Madness cried out as Agrias's well-aimed spell sent them reeling, collapsing to the ground. All cracked and turned to silver glass; Balthier felt the darkness eat him where he stood.

He slowly opened his eyes to find Ramza pulling him unceremoniously to his feet, letting go of his arm as soon as he had his balance as if he were a hot brand.

"That better be the last time I come across that damned Esper," Balthier sighed, rubbing his forehead tiredly. "We should destroy that stone and be done with it; let him have a taste of his own medicine."

To his surprise, Agrias expressed reluctance to destroy the stone, despite the power she had seen housed within it. "I would much rather bury it," she said. The Madness was enraged; Zalera was the enemy and the enemy must die. Zalera was a menace, not only to undead creatures like Lightning and Balthier, but to humes, too. Balthier glanced toward Lightning, weak from the possession and leaning against Cidolfus for support.

"Ramza," Agrias continued, "I hope we don't come across any more Stones. Those scavengers had no idea that… that they would become such a horrible creature."

Ramza neatly dodged her discomfort. "We shall return to camp and rest for the night. We can figure out what to do in the morning. I'm sure Lady Claire and the sky pirate would much rather leave this place than stay any longer." Agrias lowered her eyes, recognizing that Ramza was unwilling to discuss the Stones any further.

Inwardly, Balthier felt a tiny stab of anger that Ramza addressed Lightning by her name but simply called him _the sky pirate_. As if he were a common criminal, a piece of filth that one scraped from the bottom of their boots. When they left the cave, Balthier could feel Ramza's gaze burning holes in his back.

Setting up camp was a dreary task that night. Everyone was either too tired from the battle with Zalera or jaded by the fate of the two poor looters that had become vessels for the Esper's wrath. An evening meal was shared in near silence (Agrias forced a bowl of soup upon Lightning and Balthier, saying it would make them feel better after their ordeal) before the group dispersed, a heavy cloud hanging over their heads. Even Cidolfus, usually light-hearted at such things, retired to the tent he shared with Ramza without a word, though his eyes lingered upon Lightning with worry dancing in them.

Once the camp fell silent, Balthier was left alone with Lightning by the fireside. He wished he could be alone with his own thoughts; the Madness whispered the words it heard from the dead while it slept.

The silence stretched, tension almost tangible.

"I'm sorry," Balthier said at last. Lightning's eyes flicked toward him, but quickly went back to the fire. "For earlier. Zalera must have had a grudge since I fought him last with the humes from Earth. But… taunting the Madness? That is terribly low, even for the seraph of death…" The Madness would have torn the foundations of the earth down to prove the death seraph wrong, to prove it could claim Lightning as its own. Sensing that they were talking about it, the Madness drifted closer to the surface. Snakes slithered in the flames.

Lightning did not look up, though her face twisted in anger. "I thought you had it under control. After all this time, I thought you knew how to keep that… that _thing_ on a leash." The word _thing_ was spat like venom, burning like fire.

"You know that I can't do that Light. It is stronger than you believe, than I want to believe." Balthier sighed, and so did the creature. It whimpered, sinking back below the surface. "I digress; at least you did not have to watch your friends die with the seraph…"

"_I _almost died, Balthier! That thing almost killed me! It almost ate my _soul_! You told that if it ever did that, I'd no longer be here."

Balthier did not bother correcting her that, actually, "that thing" had warned her of the danger. Perhaps it was an attempt to protect her from itself; he never really understood exactly what strange reasoning the Madness lived by.

"Isn't that what you've always wanted, though? To depart the mortal plain?" Balthier tilted his head slightly, narrowing his eyes. He remembered she had asked him to kill her, as one immortal to the other. He remembered waking up covered in her blood. He'd tried, or at least the Madness did, now on more than one occasion, but she hated the creature and Balthier for trying to (albeit unknowingly, for Balthier) carry out her wish? Women were fickle things.

"Not like that."

Ah, not to become a meal for a hungry soul eater, not to vanish into the void and the black oblivion, never to see, feel, think, know… not to even _exist_.

Balthier listened to the Madness sing itself to sleep, a sleepy and unbearably sad song that was more harp than anything else. The music— the Madness loved music, it loved sound, the sound of Lightning's voice. Lightning was the first person who managed to even penetrate the creature that deeply, to do more than just enrage, more than just scar the shell that it resided in.

She _hurt_ it. She didn't believe it had any more feelings than a hungry fiend.

"Tomorrow I want to visit Ragnarok," Lightning said suddenly. "He's in Midlight's Deep. It's been years since I visited him and Lindzei last, and he's probably wondering where I've been."

"You don't need to clear that with me," Balthier said sullenly. "Even though I would like to give that beastie a piece of my mind. I haven't quite forgiven him for dragging me across worlds just to deliver a damn rose." He did not tell her he was frightened to meet Ragnarok. Not after what he had tried to do. The god would try to kill him, of that he was sure.

When he raised his eyes, she met them and did not look away, a true smile escaping. That was enough to make him put aside his fear, for the moment.


	7. Black Blood and Red Rose II

Yay! I got it out, finally! Thanks to **Tango-chan** for writing Lightning's side and reviewing the last chapter! This was fun...

* * *

><p>A porcelain doll, he thinks; her hands arranged above her head, sweet painted lips in the smallest, most delicate of frowns. She is dead. Hollow. A receptacle for something long gone. Balthier contemplates how fragile the doll is. One careless move and that hauntingly pale, painted face would shatter, broken into millions of pieces in his hand. Her lashes flutter like moths as her eyes dart in her skull, her mind trapped in illusion. He wonders what she dreams of; her lost love, perhaps? Sleep is as elusive for him as the illusions she chases are for her, and he tilted his head, lost in his thoughts. At last, he could stand it no longer. The question was like a burning itch under his skin that he must be rid of; else, it would rip him apart.<p>

"This has been heckling my mind for a while now, so I must ask: why do you sleep?" he asked, a smirk creeping across his face. Lightning's eye opened slightly—ever so slightly—breath taking!— and sighed upon finding him there.

"Unlike you, I want to feel alive from time to time," she said around a yawn. He could smell the magick, Sleep, if he was not mistaken, on her skin. "Mind telling me why you decided to wake me up this morning? I thought you'd be out rummaging through the forest for scraps of food."

"Think of me a scavenger, or a glutton? You're much to kind in the mornings, Light. Has anyone ever told you that?" he asked, struggling to resist the urge to lean into her caressing finger slipping over his cheek. His head felt full of air, fuzzy memories behind a curtain struggling to break free. He remembered the night winds, stars upon stars twinkling at midnight, dew forming on young grass. Young grass stroking fingers along the cold skin of a porcelain doll he'd found in the woods…

Brick walls and glass windows under his feet as he wandered the ruined city, seeking solace and finding none, not even from the creature in his soul. There was no grass in the dead city.

"Maybe." Lightning continued stroking his face. He closed his eyes, enjoying her touch. "Mustadio always said I needed to lighten up in the mornings, but he was never awake until the afternoon at times, so how would he know?" She sighed again, somewhat sad and content, then pulled one of his many earrings. The pain jerked him back into the now. There were no porcelain dolls with painted faces, only Lightning, lying in her bed mat in a slightly soggy tent. "And don't avoid my question; it bothers me when you do that. Why are you in here?"

Expletives ran through Balthier's head like chocobos with lobos on their tails. What _was _he doing in Lightning's tent? What happened to the night, the stars, the water, the… the sideways city? The void… Oh, _no_.

"I, er…" he stammered, struggling to find an explanation for something he did not know how to explain. The Madness purred loudly from its nest in the ruined palace, delighted by his misfortune. "I was watching you sleep." He came up with an excuse: not even his silver tongue could save him this time, but doubtlessly that was what the creature had been doing before leaving him to clean up its mess.

Lightning's fingers, no longer porcelain, curled into a fist, but before she could land the blow, Ramza interceded and opened the tent flap. "Lady Claire, the rest of us are ready to leave," he said, then caught sight of the awkward position of the two on the bed mat. His cheeks flushed an odd color of pink and he quickly withdrew, clearing his throat. "But, if you're not, ah, ready yet, we can wait!" Lightning laughed and shoved Balthier off, punching his shoulder, and he sat back on his heels.

"Go on ahead, if you must. Just watch out for snakes in Midlight's Deep." Lightning warned, reaching over to her pack.

"Snakes?"

"Even though he's on a tight leash, Lindzei likes to trick those who enter Midlight's Deep. He and Ragnarok would make a fine team against bounty hunters if they weren't at each other's throats all the time."

"Your beastie has made quite a few enemies…" Balthier swiftly left the tent and held the flap open for Lightning, who came out after him, checking her gunblade.

"Only a few; mostly they misunderstand his intentions. He never really wanted to hurt anyone but the gods, and scaring the wits out of bounty hunters is his way of having fun." Lightning's face crumpled from the inside, then. "He's only trying to cheer me up by doing that. He knows how much I…" she looked away, then, silver pink hair spilling over her shoulder. Balthier did not miss the black agony that bled into her eyes.

"You…?" he asked gently.

"Nothing. No use living in the past, right?" She refused to meet his eyes, quickly walking toward Cid, who glanced between them curiously and turned back to his conversation with Ramza.

* * *

><p>Their descent into Midlight's Deep was slightly uplifting; Balthier felt comfortable in the darkness where all the dead things dwelled. It was harder and harder to find refuges where he could take shelter without fear of the living attempting to take his head every few days. The mossfungus growing on the walls, spewing their toxic fumes into the dank, musty air, was a deterrent for anything alive that might enter the caves. However, as they got deeper and deeper down, he could not stop himself from feeling as if he should not be there.<p>

Penelo flitted from stone to stone, her dancing feet brushing each spire before moving on. To distract himself, Balthier flicked globs of mossfungus at Ramza's face. He was promptly rewarded with a sword jammed through his ribs.

_He is not happy, you know._ Other Balthier, Ffamran, appeared, a vague outline against Ramza's torch. _He seeks retribution for a crime done almost a century ago._

Balthier tilted his head back, taking a deep breath of death-laced air. He could feel the divine god within the ruins, a power that filled him with terror and dread. Why did he come down here again? He'd lied to Lightning about why he came—he wanted to apologize, both to Ragnarok and to her, though Ragnarok was a secondary motive. The rose was no longer a bother, no longer a thorn pricking his sides.

_They do not take kindly to your presence, Madness._

Do not say the name of that creature, Ffamran. Do not speak of devils, for they come when called. A trickster will come even if only thought of.

The creature was already awake, reaching paws over its head as it reached up to hook its claws into the cobblestone street that made the walls of the void, stretching its back. Tail lashing, snake hissing, wings aflutter…

"If you don't stop tearing at your cuffs, I'll throw some mossfungus at you," Lightning muttered, out of earshot for the rest of the knights.

Balthier glanced down at his hands, fingers clenched about the gold embroidery on his sleeves, and back to Lightning, frightened. The Madness was taking control, more and more easily, feeling his emotions and merely miming them and amplifying them until they were no longer his emotions, but that of the Madness.

"I was not aware that I… Apologies. This place… does not settle well with me." A shiver crawled up his spine. Cold lips with jagged, yellow teeth caressed his earlobe.

"Why?"

"It seems your beastie has a bone to pick with me."

Lightning snapped at him irritably. "Stop calling him _my _beastie. That's worse than the time Snow kept calling me Ragnarok's prey."

A fierce rage rose within him. Ragnarok did not hunt her—at the end of the night, it would not be that god, hateful being, that would have her blood, that would take her soul. He snarled through his teeth at the thought.

"Something the matter?"

"You are not his _prey_. You are not his to claim. You are min—" Balthier belatedly realized that this was not him speaking. He banished the Madness back into the depths of his heart, the creature nearly shrieking with laughter. Snakes slithered under his skin. There were insects running in his veins. His fingers twitched, possessed with the desire to dig the insects out of his skin. "The sooner we leave, the better," he said shortly.

"If you're afraid of Ragnarok, you could just say so." Lightning smiled.

"We're not scared," Balthier muttered, glancing uneasily into the gloom.

"Don't worry, you're not the only one. Vaan used to tell me how much my Balthier would threaten to tear his arms off. The poor kid couldn't look him in the eyes after that," she continued.

Ffamran grinned.

_She remembers me, Balthier. _

Remembers and mourns, caught in the past, walking in a waking dream. Sighing for someone who no longer lives, sighing over a moldering corpse in the ground, sighing a little of her life out, one breath at a time. Sadness and misery, pain and death. Do not smile, Ffamran, when she does not.

The Madness tentatively brushed her soul wavelength, the only part of her it could touch without her overtly noticing and panicking. It was so tired of seeing her sigh, so tired of feeling that absolute sadness that permeated even her soul. Dreams in waking, dreams in sleeping… it whispered its dream thought in her ear. Ffamran brushed her cheek with gentle fingers, something that the Madness only dreamed of doing. A voice was hissing at them, warning them against taking that course of action. But no one listened, though the voice sounded suspiciously like Balthier… no… Ffamran? Ffamran was by Lightning, and by Balthier…

The Madness curled its lip disdainfully.

Shame, Ffamran. Do you enjoy seeing her suffer?

The Ffamran by Lightning tilted her head up with a finger under her chin, brushing her lips with his own. Both the true Ffamran and the Madness growled. But it was too late; Lightning was already caught in the web of twisted reality.

"It's you," she whispered to the air. "You've been with me all along."

"The magicks Etro has put on you have hindered my chances of talking with you," the illusion said. "Trust me, I would rather have met with you on better conditions. This is Ragnarok's domain; Etro's reach does not extend here."

Lightning's breath shivered as she listened to the words of a ghost that existed only in her mind. Ramza called out to her, asking what was there, but he was ignored.

"I'm surprised you're alone here. I though you would have had Snow or someone else here. You're still all ghosts, right?" she asked.

The false Ffamran cast his eyes downward. "I have not moved on, yes. But I am not tied to this world, either. My soul is tied to the one most like me; this is Ultima's doing."

Balthier felt rage fill him once more, arcing into the darkness like flame. It was Ultima's fault he was plagued by ghosts?

"Ultima? That she witch—" he snarled, but the ghostly outline of the illusion Ffamran glanced toward him lazily.

"Careful with that mouth of yours, Madness. You've not seen the High Seraph's strength. She, like most gods, isn't too keen on your presence here. For once, I agree."

Other Balthier, from where he lounged near a wall covered in mossfungus, examining some wriggling vines, sniggered when he heard this.

_Oh Madness, have you insulted yourself?_

The Madness was lost to rage, snarling at the illusion's incensing words, unhearing to either Balthier's pleas.

"Going to kill me, weak hume? Try, if you dare. You're just a soul, wandering until time's end. Why don't you run back to your fool? He'll save you, won't he?" the Madness laughed, inhuman and out of its mind with jealousy. "Forgive me my forgetfulness—he is not here, is he? Gone away, like all the _good_ little souls of this realm!"

Lightning was between them now.

"What's gotten into you?" her eyebrows lowered in a deep scowl of anger. The temperature of the cave felt as if it had risen. "You promised to keep that _thing_ under control!"

"I can't recall ever saying that, not at all," the Madness hissed, "and neither does he. We're not separate entities, you know. I'm part of his _soul_." When she tried to back away, it lunged forward, grabbing her hand in a sharp, tight grasp. "_Thing_? Thing, she calls me! I am no thing, old woman! Mad I am, yes, but who is to say that you, dearest Lightning are not mad as well?"

Lightning stared at her own hand, struggling to escape. Her hand was aging rapidly in his grip, in his world where reality was a dream and fantasy stood in its place, her hands were so shriveled and dry like bone claws. She cast her eyes for help, but the only one in this void was the illusion, the Madness, and herself. Balthier paced the empty room inside the building they stood upon, clenching his fists in anger. He was always locked away when things like this happened, forced to be an observer through the Madness's eyes.

The Madness was speaking again. "No god holds you—but for me! I, mad they call me, have claimed your _soul_!"

"I'm not, yours, so let me go!" Lightning shrieked, struggling to pull away, but the Madness suddenly gave in to its desires, holding her and stroking her hair, eyes closed almost as if it hurt.

The illusion did its job, pulling her away, and the Madness bowed forward onto all fours, paws curling and claws springing out, fur on end and tail lashing in anger.

"Go back and crawl back into the hole you came from, Madness," the false Ffamran snarled, aiming a translucent Fomalhaut at the creature.

"Crawl on your hands and knees, little ghost, and scamper through that Door! Your friends are all waiting for you!" the Madness screeched, lunging and ripping through the illusion with the ease of one smashing a porcelain doll to pieces.

Lightning put her hands to her head and screamed.

"_Stop!_"

At the sound of her voice, the void shattered back into reality. The Madness was gone; Balthier put a hand to his forehead, cursing in Vieran for letting things get so out of hand, while Cidolphus rushed forward to Lightning's side, a hand around her shoulders as he tried to help stabilize her. Lightning's eyes darted about the cave, coming to rest upon Balthier, as if assuring herself that he was real. He lowered his own gaze, ashamed of his deed. Fran stroked his back, comforting him.

"I had no idea the undead could be affected by mossfungus," Agrias said, shaking her head, blond locks swaying.

Lightning shook her head breathlessly. "We can't," she murmured. "Not usually. It was all just a dream, right? Just… a dream."

Balthier glanced toward Fran; could he say so? Was what the Madness did a dream only?

Ramza took the glance toward his partner as a look of unease.

"Well, pirate?" the brash child asked, "Shall we expect to see you faint because of the toxic fumes?"

Impudent scum.

Lightning looked at him expectantly, her eyes begging Balthier to speak, to let her know who was behind the masked face that hid at times either a man or a monster.

"I—I would never let it hurt you," he stammered, almost atremble. "It wanted—wanted to cheer you up, don't you understand? I didn't think… did not think it would—"

"Look, let's just keep going. The sooner we get out of here, the better. This place is giving me the creeps." Lightning cut him off, but motioned for him to hang back once the others began moving again.

"The Madness," she whispered. "It didn't… eat his soul, did it?" the pause in between was laced with fear.

Balthier glanced toward the space next to them, where Other Balthier lounged, waiting for them to start moving again.

_Unscathed, courtesy of our furry friend. He's quite strange, you know. Making up an effigy of me, insulting himself, then killing his own illusion?_

Upon hearing his voice, Balthier sighed, relieved. "No, he's still there. Though the Madness was right; he should move on…"

Those who do not move on become twisted, Ffamran. Didn't you know? It's the only way to save your soul, not just from what may become of you, but from me.

Lightning nodded, then moved away. The Madness reached out, snagging at her soul wavelength, seeking comfort in something that Lightning gave unaware. It was all it had.

The overpowering scent of roses was like a heavy stack of bricks. Roses of every color bloomed in the grass; one wrong step and a foot could be heavily scratched.

There are no roses without thorns, Ffamran. Even in a dream, the best dream, things can still go wrong. A step in the wrong spot and you will plunge into the darkness, never to wake up. A body that breathes and lives but has nothing behind it. A porcelain doll.

Magick was thick in the Terminus; as was the hostile feeling that had once crawled up Balthier's spine but now smothered him. Here, the god was here, waiting, anger bubbling like molten lava and love hotter than liquid fire, one arcing in a bolt of wrath upon him and the other burning for Lightning, ready to warm her soul.

"Ragnarok?" Lightning called.

Balthier whimpered; he did not want to meet Ragnarok, not like this. Not _now._ Almost oblivious to his discomfort, she continued.

"If you're off chasing bounty hunters again…"

"_You enjoy ruining my fun, don't you, Claire?_" Ragnarok's rich voice rolled over them as he settled himself upon a nearby tree, a silver snake twisting itself about his neck. Upon spotting the snake, Lightning grinned.

"Nice to see Lindzei's not sneaking around Ivalice like the miry snake he is."

The Madness purred when it saw Lindzei, recognizing the Trickster god for what it was and acknowledging a fellow being. Yet when Lindzei arranged his coils comfortably across Ragnarok's shoulder's, the Madness sighed wistfully.

We are always puppets to a greater being. Who holds our strings? The wily woman of Death makes the porcelain puppet dance.

And for me? Who holds my strings? Not you, Madness. You dance to the same tune as I, but your feet move to a different beat. It is a welcome distraction.

"_I should have expected this. I thought you a good man, once before, but now you have sunk so low that you align with a creature so weak-minded, so easily tempted with promises of the blood and souls of pitiful humes…_"

Please, distract me from the world. Make colors in my eyes that whirl and dance, dance like the puppets on strings. We never sank below the surface, down into the red water. We simply never rose.

"I could say the same to you," Balthier said succinctly. "That little serpent you call pet has done worse things than I. Need I remind you of the murder he committed, damning this fine creature you so dearly cherish?" His hands flitted, quick and nimble like the pickpocket he was, over the scarred place on her shoulder, scarred by his own teeth. "It is her fault she is this way, wouldn't you agree?"

_She doesn't blame me, Balthier. It was not I who damned her. She said it was not so; it was Lindzei's fault. Balthier… mad one… if I knew I was condemning myself, I would not have done it._ Ffamran fretted with his cuffs.

Lightning was murmuring to herself quietly. "Stop messing with my dreams, let me wake up, let me—"

"_This is no dream, Claire_," Ragnarok hissed, crimson eyes flaring at Balthier. "_But I won't let this fiend hurt you anymore. Unhand her._"

Even the gods think we are a fiend. Zalera, Ultima, and now Ragnarok. And Lightning… Do you think I am a monster, Fran?

…Fran?

Lightning moved away from him, slowly, eyes lowered as if she regretted it. Satisfied, Ragnarok turned his attention to the humes of the party, knowing they had come for the auracite he held. Yet his words were directed at Lightning:

"_I would have you take this Stone as you did before, though this time…. Do not make me harm you_." Balthier felt a stab of annoyance when Ragnarok kissed Lightning's hand and she smiled. "_I would rather fight the High Seraph herself, not you as well. You've kept your planned freedom a secret far too long, Claire_."

Planned freedom? Something she was keeping secret? Balthier felt himself go cold. Whatever Lightning kept secret was never good.

"You should know why I keep it a secret, then," Lightning said sharply.

"_And I will do my best to prevent it, for he won't be here to protect you._" Balthier was unsure whether the god referred to him, or to Ffamran.

I cannot protect you, Lightning. Only hurt you.

"What makes you think I need protecting?" she shot back at Ragnarok.

Ragnarok's voice adopted a paternal, lecturing tone. "_Over the years, Claire, you've developed a taste for the outwardly. Be mindful around those you call your allies, especially those who might—_"

"_Really, Ragnarok_," this new voice, smooth as silk and cold as silver, broke the other god's lecturing. "_She can manage on her own just fine._"

Quick as lightning, the snake slithered from Ragnarok's neck and reappeared in a hume-like form, smiling wickedly. "_You've gotten bitter in your old age. It's no wonder Etro denies you passage into other worlds, you're likely to wreak havoc in fit of _madness_, wouldn't you agree?_"

The Madness purred its agreement, recognizing that Lindzei acknowledge him as well. Ragnarok shot the other god a dirty look, annoyed by the mutiny.

"How many gods live here?" Agrias burst out exasperatedly. "You have made strange acquaintances, Lady Claire."

Lightning laughed, but Balthier was not humored by their situation. "Just hand over the Stone, and we'll be on our way. We've more important matters at hand than dealing with chained gods."

Lindzei grinned. "_So soon? At least stay for a game of cards, would you?_"

The Madness squirmed, sitting up in its nest. It was interested; it loved games. Yet, Ragnarok's proximity made it wary, and Lindzei vanished with a laugh. Cidolphus sighed, scrubbing his beard with a gloved hand.

"A card game would be a fair break; you're all much too tense these days."

* * *

><p>Balthier sat by the small pile of kindling he was supposed to be turning into the fire for the night. Ragnarok's voice as he conversed with Lightning was a buzz in the back of his head, annoying and unwanted, but unstoppable. The god was too talkative for his own good.<p>

The fire fizzled then went out, while Balthier hissed in pain as the dying embers burned his hand. Damn all, his skin was too cold to nourish a fire and it quickly devoured the heat before the flames could catch. Just as he was considering what strength of fire spell he should cast in order to set the pile of dry sticks (and perhaps everything around it) ablaze, Ramza arrived and easily lit the fire, glancing at him with dry amusement. Balthier snorted and turned away, spotting Lightning tucking the green Zodiac Stone that housed Ragnarok into her pack.

"Mind if I had a look at that?" he asked quietly. Lightning jerked.

"You can hear him?"

"I did once play host to his needs. Is it that much of a surprise?"

"_Allow him to hold my Stone with his bloody hands, and I will not forgive you, Claire_," Ragnarok growled.

Lightning turned back to Balthier apologetically. "I'd rather not take any chances, Balthier. I'm sorry. And, from what it sounds like, you're not on the best of terms with Ragnarok. I think he's still upset over what you did."

"I heard a large fiend in the forest," Balthier announced, irritated, and stalked away into the gathering night. Lightning looked after him, brows lowered, but did not follow.

He sighed as he stealthily made his way through the moonless night, down the path that led back to Warjilis, running a hand through his brown and gold speckled hair. Tugging an earring thoughtfully, he mulled over the events of Midlight's Deep. Ragnarok had mentioned something about Lightning and freedom—and she had shushed the god quickly. Though he had asked to see the stone, Lightning did not give it to him, either, when she found he could hear Ragnarok's voice.

"_She's hiding something_," he muttered in Vieran when Fran appeared at his side. "_What it is, I shan't like it. It turned out horribly when she hid things from me last time._"

"_And what will you do about it?_" Fran replied in the same language. "_It is but a suspicion you have, nothing more, nothing less._"

"How unlike you to disagree with me, Fran." Balthier replied, glancing at her out of the corner of his eyes.

"_Hush, concentrate on the task at hand. It is a long journey to the next target that the feckless boy Ramza has in mind; you had better eat a little extra today._"

"I don't see why I can't just feed a little from you."

Fran did not answer, but merely trot along behind him like a puppy behind its owner. Or a cat waiting for a treat. A cat, hmm…?

It was dark, even for his eyes, and with a snap he conjured a little witch-fire of cold, black flame but silver light that bobbed along near his shoulder, illuminating the path. Just as he was about to despair of finding any straggling travelers along the path and began to fear he may have to enter the city to hunt (a dangerous move), he came across the hunched outlines of two Humes in the water ditch.

"Good evening," he purred silkily, the light brightening slightly to shine upon the couple. A young man crouched protectively over an aged woman, wrapped in a blue shawl. "What has you upon the Warjilis road so late?"

"Me mum's sick somefin' awful," the man began in a mean, commoner's dialect. "We were goin' to Warjilis t' get 'er some medicine. But they said they couldn't help 'er; suggested we went to Mullonde to shrive 'er soul a'fore she up 'n died."

"Mullonde is a long way off," Balthier observed. "But I am on my way there, too. Perhaps we ought to travel together? It shall be safer, I think. Who knows what sort of creatures prowl the night?"

"Aye," the man agreed, struggling out of the ditch with the tiny woman in his arms. As they travelled down the road, Balthier cast a Sleep spell upon the woman, and she began to snooze quietly. No need for her to see or feel her death. It would be quick and merciful.

When he fell upon the man, the poor hume did not even have time to make a sound before his throat was torn out and his neck snapped. The Madness hungrily devoured the body until what was once a Hume man was barely more than a bloody pile on the ground; but when it turned toward the woman, its demeanor changed. Strangely enough, it was gentle when it bit her, a little more respectful handling the old corpse.

"I'm sorry," Balthier murmured, kneeling over the mess. "I couldn't resist it; but your mother is no longer in pain, and you can move on knowing she is well in the afterlife." He waited for the souls to vanish, but as he crouched, still as stone in the darkness, his vision faded to black.

When he awoke, the souls were gone, but judging by the cool, lingering taste on his tongue, the souls had not moved on to the afterlife. Somewhere in the recesses of his soul, the Madness was purring. The souls had not moved on; he had eaten them.

Balthier felt horrible; he felt swollen slightly from too much blood—Fran had always told him not to overeat, but this time it was different. Why had she told him to eat more than usual this time? Unless… unless the Fran he had been speaking to was not Fran at all. Where was Fran?

Something inside him snapped. He coughed, sides heaving and chest aching, something hot and wet in his throat—he put his hands over his mouth and felt something thick and sticky drip into his palms. A closer look revealed it was a string of red blood—his blood.

Balthier understood then—Fran was dead, but he was not. The string of blood in his palms was the bond they had shared, and now it was broken.

He screamed—it was an inhuman cry even to his ears, almost unrecognizable.

"Calypso! Damn you, wherever you are!" he shrieked, clutching the bloody string in a sweat slicked fist. "I am a monster now—my humanity is dead! Where have you taken her, sea witch?"

The silent night reflected his own cries at him.

_Where have you taken… where have you taken… taken…_

"Why have you made this my lot in life? What have I done?" he continued, looking about wildly for the dead goddess. "I only helped you, and this was how I was rewarded?"

"Balthier?"

He whirled to face the one who had snuck up behind him, the black fire streaking in a burning arc at her, before he caught sight of Lightning's face and the flame fizzled out, plunging them into darkness.

"I thought I heard you. We could hear you screaming from the camp, but Ramza and the others thought it was a fiend. Is something wrong?" Her voice was light, but he was sure she knew that, yes, _there was something the bloody hell wrong!_

"_I ate two human souls!_" he shouted, whirling to face the bodies on the ground. "The Madness, it ate their souls!"

"Be quiet, if you keep shouting, then the others will come looking for us." Lightning gently helped him sit on the ground, careful to avoid the two corpses nearby.

"Their souls, I have damned them to nothing. At least, I thought, even if they no longer walked the mortal plain, they could find some happiness in the afterlife. But the Madness, idiot creature, it _ate _them as a dessert! It doesn't even need them!"

"But what if the afterlife is full of suffering? Did you save them then?" Lightning asked, stroking a cool finger down his back. Funny, he'd never noticed before—he was probably slightly warmer from the extra blood…

"I don't know…" he leaned against her, sighing. "I don't like living like this, Light. You probably think that I am just a monster, enjoying the pleasure of the hunt, but the truth is rather to the contrary. It is the only way I can survive and be sane, Lightning. You know what happens if I don't." He brushed his hand against her shoulder, where he'd bitten her once before. Underneath her clothing, he knew that a scar marked her pale skin.

"I know." She replied, and they lapsed into silence, though she continued running her fingers through his hair. He could not stop a quiet purr from escaping, but could not be bothered to stop either. At least, until a thought occurred to him.

"Light? Ragnarok mentioned something in Midlight's Deep; he said that you were trying to do something about your immortality, and you rather quickly shushed him." Balthier raised an eyebrow, tilting his head to see her better. "Would you be of the inclination to share your thoughts?"

"Ragnarok has a big mouth and can't keep it shut." Lightning replied after a moment. "Don't worry about it."

"You're hiding something," he said mulishly, "and I don't like it. If you recall, you were trying to hide the fact that you wanted me to kill you seventy years ago, and now look where it has gotten us."

Lightning looked away and refused to answer, then glanced back at him from the corner of her eye, refusing to meet his silver gaze.

"You're covered in blood."

"So I am," he agreed, sitting up slightly and scrubbing futilely at the dried thread of blood stuck to his palm. He had suspected Fran was gone for a while—and this was the proof. However, he was a sky pirate, and it was his nature to run from such things. She was still there; and she still offered him solace. He_ saw_ her.

"You should go clean yourself up. You're a mess, and you look a little…"

"Gorged? Yes. I don't know when I'll get to eat next… and I am of the impression that if I attempted to have one of our dear party members for dinner I would find myself in a position of utmost hostility. I'm certain I'll look better in an hour or so."

"Indeed." Lightning was dragging him down the slight hill on the other side of the road, away from the grisly scene of death in the ditch, toward a tiny creek just beyond. Easily using his lack of weight to her advantage, she flung him off a short precipice and into the icy water, crouching by the waterside and dipping her fingers in.

"Don't think you've escaped my questions, Light," Balthier scowled once he resurfaced, slipping his shirt off to scrub out the stains. Lightning flicked her fingers at him, pelting him with water drops.

"Good luck in getting answers, and don't go to Ragnarok; I won't give him to you. It is for your own safety, as well as that of the party's." She lifted her head and gazed away into the distance.

Balthier bit his lip with a sharp tooth, looking away into the moonless night for Lightning's hidden horizon.

* * *

><p>That night, he decided that he <em>had<em> to apologize to Ragnarok, while he still possessed the courage to do so. The Madness strongly objected; it barely regretted its attempt to murder Lightning, remorselessly pined after her soul, and hated Ragnarok with a passion that exceeded only its obsession with Lightning, blood, hume souls, and strawberries. But ignoring its illusions and its screams of protest, Balthier snuck to Lightning's pack and opened it silently.

The Serpentarius gem glinted innocently in the dying firelight, twinkling like an emerald. But something was not right; Balthier quickly looked around, unable to shake the feeling that he was being watched. The night was as still as the mountains. He looked back at the Stone; then he heard a feral snarl.

Something shot out of the stone and into his chest, twisting inside of him, into his _soul_…

Balthier snarled in return, attempting to break free of the magick to which he had fallen prey, but it was too late; the spell shook him, shook something loose _inside_ of him. As abruptly as the pain began, it ended, but something was wrong. Something was crouched on his chest, a small something with an awful lot of fur and feathers, and a smooth, scaly tail that—bugger all!—bit him when he touched it experimentally. He raised his eyes to meet the gleaming silver eyes of the Madness, who looked as surprised to find itself in the real world as Balthier felt (albeit in a strange, vague way). It huddled against him for a moment, shivering, as if by doing so it could somehow go back into its safe, warm nest inside Balthier's soul. Upon finding that it was still in reality, the Madness put a tentative paw forward, touching the ground cautiously with plump, pink paw pads, then padding around the camp quietly, gaining confidence as it easily adapted to its new surroundings. Eventually, it vanished into a tent, tail flicking curiously.

It was Lightning's tent. Balthier thought to warn the Madness that waking Lightning was a dangerous move, especially for a creature such as it, something she feared and hated with cruel ferocity. However, he could not find much means to care for what the silly creature did, neither could he find the energy to call out to it. It was not his business, Balthier decided, settling himself against a tree where he could still watch the camp with the minimal amount of effort. No, he told himself again as a gunshot rang out over the camp and Agrias's terrified scream shattered the quiet night, it was not his place to warn the Madness against putting its paws on piles of broken porcelain.


	8. Black Blood and Red Rose III

O. MG. I finally got this out. It felt like it took FOREBER! But now I am ready to work on part 4... which is gonna be so dang sad! Again, thanks to** Tango-chan** who writes these with me... There is a skeleton mentioned here but it's not Balthier. Just FYI for other readers.

* * *

><p>The Madness cowered back against the corner of the tent while Agrias and Lightning exchanged sharp words. Upon being questioned why she fired her gunblade, Lightning responded, "I thought I saw a rat. Guess I was just seeing things." Then she shifted forward out of her bed mat, throwing her armor on, and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. He whined in protest of her harsh handling and against being called a rat, but before he could say anything, she set him down by the smoldering fire.<p>

"All right, where is Balthier?" she demanded, crossing her arms. The Madness whined again.

"Must you care only for him? He does not care or feel the same way for you as I do; he is not worthy of your love. But I am, surely I am!" He made to rub against her leg, but Lightning would have none of it, and stepped away from him, scowling.

"Unless you tell me where he is, I'll be sure to give you some well-earned attention! What did you do to him?"

"I didn't do anything!" the Madness squeaked indignantly, his fur standing up angrily. "It was that envious beast you call Ragnarok! He needs to be leashed, or at least kept to worldly bonds once more. I will find a naïve mortal to be his cage, I will!"

Lightning rubbed her eyes angrily and kicked a tree, coincidentally, the tree behind which Balthier lounged. At the disturbance, he peered around the trunk with eyes that reflected his inner state: empty and scraped clean of comprehension. The Madness, knowing the role it played in Balthier's mental world, purred loudly at how helpless the sky pirate was without him.

"Ragnarok tore me from Ffamran, and look what has become of him. He is no more than a puppeteer's plaything now."

Lightning seemed distracted by Balthier's state, and he tried to take advantage of her inattention to curl about her feet, but she stepped away from him skittishly and he almost mewed in disappointment.

"What do you mean?" she snapped, glaring down at him. The Madness scowled; he hadn't realized how exactly _tall_ she was until Ragnarok had trapped him in this ridiculously tiny body.

"Without me, half his soul is gone. So now all he can do is wander like the pitiful ghost he should have been years, years, and years ago."

Lightning tenderly brushed Balthier's cheek with her fingers, and when he did not look at her, sadness bled into her eyes. Purring quietly, the Madness gently pressed himself against her leg in an attempt to distract her, even as, sensing her discomfort, Balthier took her face in his hands and studied it, memorizing her appearance.

"Poor, stupid Ffamran," he murmured, tail waving and sweeping along her leg. The woman shivered at the feeling of slick scales against her skin. "You can't even recognize your darling Phoenix."

Lightning reluctantly pulled Balthier's hands from her face. "Then why don't you go back to him and fix his soul? You're his other half. He needs you, doesn't he?"

The Madness purred, digging his claws into the soft, dewy grass beneath his feet. "Go back? Whatever possesses you to think I would want to go back? I am quite charmed and entranced by this realm of the living. And imagine: all the souls! It is refreshing." He could almost taste them on his tongue. Then Lightning forcefully flicked his nose, and he jerked back with a whine.

"Don't get _anywhere_ near my comrades. They're not food, got it?" she snarled. The Madness pressed his belly to the ground and whined again, groveling, while Balthier looked at him, his brows furrowing. The creature could tell that he was annoyed; if he had to put the feeling to words, he knew Balthier was disgusted that a creature with his face would act so cowardly. In an attempt to escape his gaze, the Madness climbed into the tree, reveling in the feeling as the bark bit into the pads under his paws and he _felt _the rough surfaces scratch at the soft flesh there. He tucked his tail about his body, crouching on a branch and listening contently to the sound of Ramza and Agrias wandering the camp, the latter searching and the former complaining. When Lightning shifted slightly below the branch, he looked down at her, wondering how long it would take to gain her trust, studying the hard set of her eyes. She shuddered under his scrutiny, and yanked him out of the tree, shoving him into Balthier's arms. Both he and Balthier reacted similarly, sharing an identical glare at the woman, though this was accompanied by a yelp from the Madness.

Lightning glared at the pair. "Here's the story. You—" at this point she looked at Balthier—"Haven't slept for hundreds of years and have only now decided to rest. And _you_—" this was directed at the Madness, sharpness layering her voice like a sword—"you will stay out of sight until further notice. I'm not through with you, all right?"

He nodded, tucking his tail between his legs and pressing himself to the ground.

* * *

><p>Lightning lead Balthier away down the hill back into the camp, half dragging him as he stumbled like a drunken man, eyes wandering blankly, seeing and only partially comprehending. The Madness watched them go with a slightly longing gaze. It would have been nice if Lightning stayed for a while longer; even Ffamran, the witless, empty shell he now was, would have been better than nobody at all.<p>

The Madness crouched on the ground, wings tucked tightly around him as if they could protect him from harm. He tried to remember the exact way Lightning looked; painted lips, eyes blue like the sky… white cheeks? The Madness sighed, smashing the lifeless illusion he created for company, shattering it into shards of porcelain that became dead leaves.

All I see is a doll, Ffamran. A doll is not much for company when there is nothing inside to make it laugh and smile.

He tilted his head, watching the camp small camp wake and prepare for the day. There was the hated, high and mighty Ramza, commanding people to do things they were already doing; Agrias, long suffering and kindly, packing their travelling sacks; Cidolphus, wise and weathered, dismantling tents. Ramza stormed past Lightning and Balthier, snapping something to the Eternal woman about taking long enough, then ordering Balthier to make sure the fire was extinguished.

Balthier looked vacantly at the smoldering remains of the fire from the night before, and down at his hands, as if considering a water spell, then down at his feet. The Madness could sense his discomfort through their link; could sense his fear of the rip within their soul. All his knowledge of spells had left with the Madness, as well as much of his will. Eventually, Balthier fell into step behind Lightning, drifting like a purposeless Chocobo as she worked.

Disgusting. A puppet with no puppeteer.

Hissing quietly, the Madness squeezed out from the bush he concealed himself in while waiting for Lightning, shaking the leaves and twigs out of his fur.

Stay out of sight, Lightning had told him, but she didn't necessarily say _where_. For a smooth, porcelain doll, she was awfully cruel. First shooting at him and calling him a rat, then threatening him if he did not reveal what he'd done to Ffamran—which was Ragnarok's fault!— then throwing him into poor, disoriented Ffamran's arms and demanding him to go back.

As if he wanted to go back, despite how lost Ffamran was without him.

After a while of wandering away into the woods, the Madness came across a small patch of strawberries, full of ripe red fruit that peeked from under the leaves like curious children. This discovery was uplifting, certainly, for this was the creature's favorite fruit; with not much else to do, and a throbbing ache in his still heart, the Madness unhappily commenced to eat.

Of course, the Madness swiftly discovered that it was rather difficult to grip a round strawberry without opposable thumbs, and slightly difficult when his mouth was somewhat too small to get a decent bite on the fruit. Tail lashing in agitation, the Madness finished the laborious process of eating one and commenced attempting to eat another.

Several minutes later, the Madness heard footsteps a small distance away, then Lightning's voice.

"Madness?"

A low curse.

"Come out, wherever you are!"

Another swear and the sound of stomping feet nearby. Sighing, the Madness sat up from the strawberry patch, sucking the sticky red juice from his paws.

"I am here, Lightning," he drawled, causing the woman to whirl, first looking into the trees, then down by her feet, as if just remembering it was not Balthier she was looking for, but the Madness.

"You shouldn't just run off like that," Lightning scolded, flicking his nose irratibly. "I was worried."

The Madness growled quietly, rubbing his nose with a paw and settling back onto his haunches. "Tell me the truth, dear rose. You weren't worried about me, were you? You were worried that if I left, your precious Ffamran would be left a pitiful wraith for the rest of eternity."

Lightning crossed her arms and looked away, and the Madness drooped sadly, pressing his stomach to the ground and tucking his tail between his legs as he crawled to her and rubbed against her legs, purring morosely.

"Don't you see how hard I have worked to distract you, dear rose? Yet why must you refuse to be happy?"

"I am happy."

"So you say, but I can see the serpent under the flowers." The Madness replied, licking more strawberry juice from his paws. "You're keeping secrets. Other Balthier said so, too, and he is unhappy that you would keep such secrets from us."

"I don't know what you're talking about. And you wonder why I am so unhappy with you—you tried to eat my soul."

The Madness shrugged, vanishing back into the strawberry bush with a quiet rustle.

"Said the fox to the serpent, 'Ye have doomed us both! Why didst thou bite me? Now we shall both drown.' And thus the snake replied, as they sank into the red water: 'Good sir, I am a _serpent._'" He said simply, crouching over another hapless strawberry and trying to decide whether it was worth eating. A long, slim hand beat him to it, snapping off the fruit at the stem and holding it up to Lightning's troubled face.

"You were eating these? I thought you would have been off foraging for scraps."

"I've told you before, dear rose, you flatter me."

"I didn't know you liked strawberries."

"I adore them; they are much better than blood. Perhaps even souls." The Madness purred at the thought.

"Then why don't you just eat strawberries?"

"I am afraid they don't sate me."

Lightning drew her dagger, sliced the strawberry into small rounds, and tentatively held a piece out to him. Graciously accepting her offer, the Madness eased the piece out from between her fingers, clutching the red slice between pink paw pads awkwardly.

"I used to have a name, you know," he remarked, contemplating the next round in Lightning's hands.

"You have one now," Lightning replied, her fingers tense as if ready to jerk them away if he found the inclination to bite.

"You call what I have a name? No, it was quite different. In those days, I was named Balthier."

Lightning's eyebrows rose. "Really?"

"And even farther back, I was called Ffamran. No one calls me that anymore though. They call me 'Godless Thief'. 'Monster'." He paused. "'That thing.'"

Lightning flinched.

"Look, I was scared, okay? I'm still scared! I can't trust you, got it? I don't want to be damned to oblivion in your stomach!" Lightning hissed, tossing the rest of the sliced strawberry away and stomping off a short distance away. "Tell me why I shouldn't just shoot you."

The Madness shrugged his wings, eating the strawberry and sucking his paws as he glanced toward her, a smirk forming once he lowered his paw. The snake's head on his tail hissed loudly.

"Because, I look too much like your precious Ffamran that keeps you asleep and dreaming even as you stand before me. You wouldn't dare lay a finger on me," the Madness purred, his form flickering and transforming into that of Balthier. Lightning froze as he leaned toward her, a cool finger tilting her chin up to look into his smirking silver eyes. Then she punched him.

The Madness reverted into his catlike form; withering and shrinking, fur returning as he bowed back down onto all fours, tail tucked between his legs.

"I always wonder how Ffamran manages to reattach his jaw the right way every time you break it," he groaned, pressing a paw to his face. "I would think him permanently maimed the way you punch him."

Lightning rolled her eyes and turned to leave, but panic seized the poor Madness. In a flash, he twined himself sinuously around her legs, staring up at her with terrified eyes.

"Don't _leave_ me, Light!" he begged, huddling against her legs. "You don't _understand_ how frightened I am of being alone! Why do you think I was born of Ffamran's soul? Because he was alone and frightened of that empty void, I was created to fill it. I don't like being left alone, unpleasant thoughts start to fill my mind; I would go mad!" he pleaded. Lightning stared down at him, surprised, then carefully picked him up and stroked him tentatively. The Madness purred quietly, snuggling into her warm arms while Lightning held him like a ticking bomb.

"Well…" she began uncertainly, "If you stay here and be good, I'll come back when it's time for my watch and bring you back, okay? Just don't get into trouble."

* * *

><p><em>Of course, though a promise is a promise, I wonder if you really thought I would keep <em>this one_, Claire? I am naught but a fiend, and we fiends tend to look out for ourselves before others._

Tristitia was a widow who had lost her husband to the bloodshed raging across the Ivalician continent. Her husband had been a fine man; gallant, chivalrous, and immensely kind, if not a little bit foolish. On her last birthday, he brought her songbirds to keep her company while she was alone in the house. They were her only companions now.

Tristitia returned to her home that night and removed her black shawl. The tiny room in the farmhouse looked exactly the same as it always had; yet for one thing.

The window was open, and the room was silent. Absolutely silent.

The birdcage by the window was empty, blood and feathers spattering the bottom of the cage.

"My birds!" she whispered, stumbling toward the empty cage. "My birds!"

"Why do you need the birds, Trisha? I'm home now."

At the sound of _his_ voice, she whirled.

"Patrick?"

"I'm back from the war, Trisha. We'll never be apart ever again; you don't need those songbirds anymore when you've got me."

Patrick stood in the doorway behind her, silhouetted by the moonlight. His face was in shadow, but she knew he was smiling. Patrick always smiled.

"It's been a whole year, Patrick…"

"I know it has; now why will you not welcome me back into your arms?"

"I… I am glad you're home." She collapsed into his arms. "You're so cold… it must have been a hard journey back. What an awful wife I've been, to not keep the house ready should you return. They told me you were dead; I did not believe it, and rightfully so."

"Yes… it was a long journey," Patrick said quietly, his icy lips brushing her own. "But it is all over now, never fear."

Tristitia closed her eyes and pressed her head against Patrick's chest, listening for the reassuring sound of his heart, but found none.

"…Patrick?" she opened her eyes and looked up, and found a skeletal corpse embracing her instead. She screamed and pushed it away; the dead thing fell to the ground, bones rattling, skull rolling away across the ground as the fingers fell apart into their individual digits, the sound of dice bouncing on the floor.

"_Patrick!_" Tristitia screamed and screamed, her eyes wildly searching the house. The skull in the corner started laughing, silver eyes gleaming. The wrecked, ravaged bodies of the songbirds surrounded it, broken feathers everywhere. Tristitia grabbed for the knife on the kitchen table and rushed for the skull, screaming. All the while, her feet slogged through a sea of maggots and cockroaches.

"_Get out! Get out! Patrick!_" The creatures were crawling up her legs. She swiped at them with the knife, but only succeeded in cutting herself. The knife jumped in her hands, slashing at the bugs, but they were too quick.

Her blood was on the ground and the walls, and the knife jumped at her throat.

* * *

><p>The Madness emerged from the corner, where he had been snacking on the corpses of the recently killed birds. He laughed and sobbed hysterically at the same time, crawling on his belly until he reached the pool of blood surrounding the body of the widow Tristitia. She had died so dramatically; what a show!<p>

Tristitia was guilty of nothing but a broken heart, yet he cut her down for that crime.

There is nothing as delicious as a soul seasoned with the spice of despair, spiraling into the darkness. At least, that is what he thought, and it was true.

The Madness snuffled guiltily though; why did he feel this way? Why did he lament the death of this girl?

Damn him, damn Ffamran! Why couldn't he keep their guilt within that shell of his, too? He had everything inside of him: their fear, their uncertainty—why couldn't he hold on to guilt as well?

_Damn you, I am the form of your sins. I should feel no guilt!_

The Madness tilted his head and pushed the guilt away. To drink from the pool, or to fill the body with holes? Then again, it was too much of a bother to do that, since he was this small. He bent his head and lapped at the warm blood, purring his sorrows away. The sad purr slowly transformed into the sound of pleasure as the creature glutted itself on the blood and flesh of poor, unfortunate Tristitia. A shadow fell across the moon, and the Madness looked up quickly, cold silver eyes narrowing.

A hume crouched in the window, outlined by the silvery blue light streaming in. The Madness arched his back first, his wings spreading and fur standing on end, before he crouched over the half-eaten corpse protectively, a feral growl and grating snarl rumbling and crackling in his chest and throat. His death magicks whispered in the air, slithering in the darkness.

The figure froze, sky blue eyes gleaming in terror for a moment, before slowly making its way into the house, sliding over the windowsill.

"_Balthier_," she whispered in Vieran. "_It's me; Lightning, remember?_"

The Madness blinked, tilting his head and focusing on the figure. As his eyes readjusted to the darkness, he could make out Lightning's silver pink hair and her brown squire armor.

"Lightning," he croaked, crawling over to her and rubbing against her leg. "Why did you call me Balthier?"

"I was looking at your face. It was all I could think of…" Lightning said softly. Her eyes darted to the room filled with death.

"Surely you noticed that Ffamran was looking ill again. The half-wit won't even go look for his own food. He'll be much better, now." The Madness jumped onto the countertop nearby, carefully avoiding the sharp cutlery on the surface and leaving red paw prints in his wake. "I am sorry you had to see that."

"It's not as bad as what you and Balthier did to those poor people on the road near Warjilis." Lightning said quietly, though she sounded as if she was barely breathing. The stench of copper was thick in the room. They sat in silence for a few minutes, though the Madness quietly tried to climb into her lap. She quickly grabbed him and lifted him off before his bloody paws could stain the fabric on her armor, wiping his paws with a cloth sitting nearby. "You're just a little handful, aren't you? I'm amazed that Balthier puts up with you."

"It's not like the caged bird has a choice," he whined, but before he could say anymore, the soft blue glow of a human soul lit the room. The color mesmerized him; almost angelic compared to the hideous appearance and evil red haze of his own soul. Hopping off Lightning's lap, he made his way toward the soul, the intent to eat dancing in his eyes, but Lightning was quick to grab his tail and pull. He whined quietly, and she tugged harder, forcing him to sit in an undignified manner.

"What?" he complained, turning around and tugging his tail out of her grasp. Lightning let go quickly when the snake threatened to bite her hand.

"You are _not_ eating that, and I just cleaned your paws."

"But, _Claire_—"

"_No_," she said firmly. "You already killed the poor woman—"

"She killed herself!"

"You made her kill herself!"

"How do you know?"

Lightning growled and buried her face in her hands. "That's beside the point. The point is that she's dead and you were drinking her blood and eating her flesh. Doesn't her soul deserve to rest in peace?"

"You sound like Ffamran."

"He's the one who thinks that, and I do, too. Now leave it."

Lightning picked him up and hefted him over her shoulder, climbing out the window.

"Get in," she ordered, opening her empty travel pack. "I can't get you past Agrias if you're out here. I was supposed to be on watch, not hunting you down."

"I would have come back," the Madness argued, obeying her anyway.

"I wonder about that," Lightning tapped his nose, but with less irritation than usual. They travelled for a while in silence, then he pushed his head out of the flap.

"You know… if it was anyone other than you who showed up, I probably would have eaten both Tristitia's soul and theirs. You should be pleased I didn't try to eat yours."

"Do you think I buy that?"

Thoroughly chastened, the Madness slipped back inside the bag and hummed itself a quiet, mournful song.

There was a bump when she set the bag down inside the tent, but she commanded the Madness to stay inside while she changed her clothes.

"And no peeking!" she added.

"The thought never crossed my mind," he replied. She didn't say anything to that. When he heard the quiet rustle of Lightning lying down in her bed matt, he pushed his way out of the bag. Lightning was preparing to cast a Sleep spell, but the Madness gave her a firm pat on her face. She jerked.

"What do you want now?" she asked, peeved.

"Well, dear rose, I was wondering if you would like me to sing you to sleep instead. Casting a spell seems awfully dull."

Lightning eyed him suspiciously. "You're not trying to steal my soul? You don't seem like the singing type."

"You would be surprised." He smirked.

"Swear. I know that there's no promise I can make that would hold you to it, but just do it." Lightning prodded him with her elbow, causing him to stumble away a few small steps. The Madness awkwardly raised a paw and swore, then closed his eyes and sang a quiet lullaby, the sound of bells and harps whirring and chiming into the small space, rising and falling into the cool night air. Lightning listened, entranced, before her eyes began to droop. Slowly, her false breath changed to sleep breath, and she was lost to a benign land of dreams. Purring, the Madness curled up against her chest and went to sleep, but as soon as Agrias stirred by the fire to reenter the tent, he was gone.

* * *

><p>That morning, the creature woke up to Balthier stroking his fur with his sleeves, drying the dew out of the dense hairs. His face was back to its usual tawny hue; the Madness sighed with relief. To be honest, he didn't know if his plan of feeding and hoping the results would extend to Balthier would work, but clearly it had. Slipping back into the tent, he found Lightning cleaning her gunblade with her back to him. There was a frown on her face, deep wrinkles spreading from her downturned lips. The Madness placed his paws on her knees, standing on his hind legs.<p>

"You need to smile more," he told her, once he had her attention. "You resemble an old woman when you frown, and while you are certainly old, I prefer your ageless appearance much more than the elderly."

Offended by his statement (oh, why did he _have_ to be so awkward with women?) Lightning shoved him off.

"Just spit it out. What do you want now?"

"I happened to overhear a conversation just now that I believe you'll want to know of. That prude Ramza is convinced that you're after the auracite so that you may return to the past. Telling your allies of your hopes and fears was not smart, dear rose."

"I don't need you to tell me what I can and can't do."

"Suit yourself," the Madness shrugged, curling in the corner of her sleeping mat and drifting off himself in the warmth of the tent. However, when he woke up, Lightning was gone, leaving only a lingering scent. Following the trail, he took to the air, until he spotted a familiar glint of silver pink hair below, kneeling over a white, marble tombstone. Wind screamed past his ears and tore at his face, and he landed in an undignified heap of fur atop the stone. He quickly scrambled to his feet and turned around to face Lightning's sober expression. His heart sank.

"Found you!" he managed to exclaim cheerfully, as if they had only been playing hide and seek. Lightning reached out with trembling fingers, running them through his cream-colored pelt and the softer, downy white fur about his neck. He purred, pressing his body against her hand in a loving manner before looking to her face.

"Why did you run? Was that insolent wretch being a boor to you again? Shall I eat his soul, or perhaps we can share?" he offered. Lightning smiled faintly at the suggestion, amused by his simplicity.

"I just…needed to get away. I know it was wrong to leave Balthier behind, especially when he's not in his right mind at the moment, but I couldn't stay," she answered. The Madness sighed, leaping from the top of the tombstone to walk in a circle around her, rubbing against her arm and back before pressing a paw against the name engraved in the stone, spreading his toes over the cool surface.

"Your little machinist is no more," he whispered, turning back toward her. "Such a shame, dearest rose. Is this the source of your sadness? Is he why you cannot smile, even at my trickery? I only wish to cheer you up, you see."

Lightning patted his head, touching the short, close-cropped human hairs with slight interest. "It's not just that. Mustadio meant a lot to me. I've lost so many of my friends to the gods or to death itself, and now that I think of it, they've stolen a lot from me. I wonder if Etro took Mustadio, too. Perhaps being alone is my curse."

"Then we should take him back!" the Madness proclaimed, jumping to his feet and startling her. She laughed slightly, stroking him until he settled back down to be petted, purring.

"No, I believe he is at peace. You don't see him, do you? I believe he has moved on."

The Madness sighed. "How did he flee mortality?" he asked, rolling over so she could rub his furry stomach. "Like a songbird, going down with a musical cry, or perchance a sparrow, fighting till his last breath? Or, forsake the rest: he flew away like a raven, soundless as the night."

"A little of all three," Lightning said, closing her eyes as the memory returned. "I know that Balthier—and you—and Fran did their best to keep the bounty hunters away, but they believed Mustadio was the Godless Thief who had lost his blessing of eternal youth."

"It's no blessing," the Madness interrupted drowsily, plucking a few flaking scales from his tail.

"I agree," Lightning nodded. "But you know how Humes are. Anyway, Mustadio demanded they leave, but—I should have realized it sooner. They just wanted to kill him and claim the bounty. As soon as he didn't 'rise from the dead' like the expected, they knew he was fake, and thought I was, too. Mustadio… his last words were: '_Well, I suppose Balthier and Fran are going to have a bit more trouble, huh? You'll tell them I'm sorry, won't you, Light?_' And that was it… I was still smiling. I couldn't believe he was gone."

The Madness climbed into her lap, circling to find a comfortable position, and settled down with a loud purr, content at last. "He shouldn't have been sorry. He didn't give me any more trouble than usual."

"Of course _you_ didn't have trouble. I'm talking about Balthier."

He closed his eyes. "Are you forgetting who I am, dearest rose? I'm hurt…" with that, he drifted to sleep.

* * *

><p>"…I did not know you had a cat." Cid's voice said from somewhere nearby.<p>

"C-cat?" Lightning stammered, and then he was violently jerked. The Madness mewled angrily at such manhandling and the rude awakening. "I used to have a cat back on Cocoon, yes—her name was… I mean, well, it's been a long time, and I can't remember!" she said, flustered.

There was a rustle of cloth as Cid crossed his arms. "And what do you call that feline you've been hiding from us these past few days?" he asked, skeptical.

"Um… I… that is…" Lightning struggled for words, and tired of being crammed behind her back, the Madness scrawled onto her shoulder, nuzzling at her cheek and purring.

"So observant, for an old man," he said silkily. "I am glad Lightning chose you as her mentor—any other man, and I would not approve."

He found that he did not quite enjoy the attention as much as he hoped he would—his bizarre appearance seemed to disturb the company, and he found himself wishing they would look away. The Madness, suddenly ashamed, attempted to hide his face in Lightning's hair, but Cid's large, firm hands closed about his middle and lifted him away, studying his face.

"Strange… so this is the source of the Godless Thief's madness… strange, indeed."

The Madness sulked. "I am not the source; no, it was his greedy, lonely heart that created me. I do not like being called a mere 'source'…"

Lightning took him back and began petting him once more, and he cuddled against her, purring, a content lump of fur in her lap. He was infinitely happier to be in her arms than anyone else's.

"If it was a part of Balthier," Agrias began, glancing toward the sky pirate who sat daydreaming under a tree, "then how did it get here?"

"Doubtlessly it will try to devour us in our sleep, if it acts at all like the Godless Thief." Ramza growled, reaching for his sword, which (happily) was not there.

"Just a minor mishap with a very jealous Ragnarok," Lightning assured them. "There shouldn't be any fighting; I made sure that it won't hurt anyone. And don't worry, I'll keep it…" she patted his head, and he looked up curiously. "Snow always said I needed another cat."

* * *

><p>The Madness padded about the camp, performing his morning routine. A purr and a rub against the leg for Lightning (sometimes she stroked him in return!), for Agrias, he tolerated her cooing to him and rubbing his fur, combing it the wrong way with her fingers. Cidolphus would offer him strawberries he found while out on his morning walk, and Balthier would give the Madness a blank gaze but thrum his soul wavelength in a contented manner, resonating through their link. However, this particular day, Ramza seemed to have had enough of tolerating a monster in their midst; Balthier looked Hume enough, but the Madness seemed to be a different story entirely.<p>

That day, when the Madness perched on the back of the pack chocobo (his legs being too short to be economical on the journey to the Beoulve Manse) Ramza approached, a length of rope in his hands.

"As a knight," he began, puffing out his thin chest, "I cannot allow a creature like you, a murderer of Humes, to walk free. Therefore, starting today, I would have you on a leash. Off that bird, fiend. You will walk on your own legs."

The Madness hissed, while Ragnarok chuckled from his stone.

"_And you said that _I _ought to be leashed_!" the god laughed, while the Madness gave the stone a dirty look.

"Oh, shut it!" he snapped. Ramza reached out, ready to put the rope over his head, but Cid shook his head.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you. Our little friend Madness is quite the scrapper!" the old man laughed. Lightning nodded, giving the creature a warning glare. Ramza persisted, but the Madness sank sharp little teeth into his hand, his fangs easily penetrating the knight's leather glove and piercing the skin underneath. The boy yelped and jumped backward, before staggering awkwardly and falling to the ground, eyes shut. Agrias swiftly knelt by her companion, demanding an explanation, but the Madness only shrugged his wings, licking the deep red blood from his fangs and grimacing at the taste.

"Don't worry your pretty little head, madam. He's only asleep. But know this; I will not stand to be leashed, understood?" his voice was a dark purr, steel sheathed in velvet. "Now the little brat can ride the chocobo."

They maneuvered Ramza's unconscious body into the saddle, while the Madness settled down on Lightning's shoulder, curling his slick, scaly tail about the back of her neck.

"I thought I told you not to hurt them," Lightning muttered out of the corner of her lips.

"I didn't," the Madness purred, nuzzling her cheek. "I just put him to sleep, you know that! He doesn't sleep enough anyway." Lightning snorted, though she flinched as the Madness dug his claws into her shoulder to keep himself from falling as she stepped over a large rock.

"Watch where you put those, they're sharp," she scowled.

"Apologies." The Madness nuzzled her cheek again, fluffing his fur and going to sleep, claws hooked into her clothes.

The inside of the manse was deathly still, the silence pressing in on them like a physical weight. As they walked, the Madness felt something suddenly tug at his soul, and he turned to look back at Balthier. Balthier looked pale and uneasy, his eyes wandering the hall, but did not move.

Another tug, and the Madness staggered.

"Is something wrong?" Lightning knelt next to him, stroking his fur. He arched his back into her hand, purring quietly.

"Nothing, dear rose… nothing… at all…" he murmured, and attempted to take a few more steps. His legs went weak beneath him and he fell to the ground, a quiet whimper escaping his throat. He tried to drag himself forward, but his legs merely quivered. Lightning sighed and scooped him up.

"You're so needy."

The Madness only closed his eyes and relaxed, contented with being carried.

"You want to tell me what is wrong?" Lightning prodded his flank, and he cracked an eye open to see Agrias and Cid surrounding them, too.

"You will hate us for not telling you before." He looked away. "A Lucavi is here; I can feel it. Adrammelech is his name, and once upon a time, Balthier commanded him as an Esper, along with Famfrit the Darkening Cloud and Zodiark, Keeper of Precepts. When the Zodiac braves came to seal away the Lucavi gods, centuries ago, Balthier managed to separate himself from Adrammelech, inadvertently releasing his other Espers, but he—no—_we_ still share a link with the Wroth today."

"Why didn't you tell us this? That means that you and Balthier are attuned to the Capricorn St—!" A loud bang and the splintering sound of a heavy door shattering interrupted Lightning's angry tirade.

"Zalbaag!" Ramza dashed forward when his brother tumbled through the splintered door, covered in blood. Dycedarg stood in the doorway, grey sunlight streaming through the windows, light flashing off the Excalibur blade mounted to the wall and other glass and gold trinkets.

"Ramza…" Zalbaag breathed, coughing weakly. "It is as you said! Dycedarg kindled the war… all to feed his own ambition! He must be made to pay!"

"He shall, Lord Brother," Ramza promised, drawing his own sword as Dycedarg kicked his way through the remnants of the office door. Lightning leaned against the wall, cradling the Madness, seemingly content to let the three brothers fight, unwilling to intervene in a family matter. When Dycedarg fell, it seemed that victory was complete.

But the smell of strong mist and magick, and the power of a god still soiled the air. The Madness whimpered.

"It's not over, Light. It's not over yet, it's far from over, and they've only made _him_ angry…" he breathed.

Dycedarg rose to his feet, staggered, then pushed past Ramza faster than they thought possible for a nearly dead man. Lightning took two steps before Dycedarg was upon Balthier, something green glinting in his hands. Balthier turned, as if he might run, but the knight pushed him to the floor, where he made a weak form of struggle.

Lightning cried out, recognizing the Capricorn Stone in Dycedarg's hands. To their horror, the broken nobleman shoved the stone down the undead sky pirate's throat.

"_Try to stop… my coming now… Phoenix…_" The words bubbled from Dycedarg's mouth before, with a scream, Lightning ran him through, tossing his body aside and kneeling by Balthier. The Madness leaned against her, shunting her out of the way.

"Stop it!" she shouted at the creature, which flinched. "What do you think you're doing? We have to help him!"

Balthier's hand wrapped around Lightning's throat, and the next thing they knew, he flung her through the nearest wall, her bones cracking audibly.

The Madness dove for cover as Balthier rose to his feet amid a burst of lightning, frying Zalbaag and nearly electrocuting Ramza if Agrias hadn't grabbed his arm and pulled him behind an open door. The wood smoked, charred beyond repair.

Balthier laughed darkly, his voice not his own.

"_Ah… the flesh of an undead, a better gate for the gods could never be created. You say I murdered your father? Nay, I gave him his due, no more, no less._" Balthier turned orange eyes upon the Madness, and grinned wickedly.

"_And _you_. You will now receive your dues, too, for too long have you stood in the way of the Lucavi. Two centuries ago, when the time came for Ffamran to join the host of the Lucavi gods under my command— it was you who forced me to leave his body. You, who are naught but the lowest kind of fiend, think that you are a better of the gods?_"

The Madness's eyes darted toward Lightning, who was sitting amidst the rubble, healing herself quietly and listening. She would offer him no aid? He opened his mouth to retort to Adrammelech's accusation, but the Lucavi only smirked widely.

"_I know that you spread your madness through music; I know that your power lies in your voice, spell-singing fiend. I will not allow you to interfere with our Mistress's coming. Not this time!_"

The Madness tried to scrabble away when a spell screamed toward him, his legs still weak, but it took him through the midriff, and he fell to the floor. He struggled to his feet, hissing, and opened his mouth to begin casting a Blizzaga spell, but nothing came out but a high-pitched meow. Eyes wide, he crouched on the dust-strewn carpet, meowing, as Adrammelech advanced on him, god magick crackling.

Then Lightning struck, springing into motion and pushing Balthier against the wall, while Cidolfus dashed across the hall, plucking the Madness from its position and pulling it to safety. It mewed loudly in protest.

"Balthier, listen to me! You must fight Adrammelech," Lightning whispered urgently. "You can't let him control you; you're too strong for that!"

Adrammelech spat in her face; she jerked. "_You are as much of a fool as that King you once admired. Look at her, Ffamran, and find the will to care!_"

Lightning flinched when, instead of meeting Adrammelech's burning orange gaze, Balthier's silver and brown-splotched stare looked almost straight through her. Something flickered in those depths, but he did not move.

A horrible smile spread across his face as his eyes flicked back to orange, and he hurled her to the floor, snapping her neck in two.

"_You'll get what you deserve too, dear Phoenix. Be patient._" Adrammelech prowled into the office, leaving them alone.

Cid, as soon as the Lucavi was gone, dashed across the room to heal Lightning's neck. The Madness meowed desperately and pawed at Lightning's face with both paws. Under Cid's magick, her eyes fluttered, and the Madness purred in relief, nuzzling her face and mewing quietly in her ear.

"You're rather useless, aren't you?" Lightning grumbled, sitting up. Cidolfus gave a cry of warning when Adrammelech stalked back out of the room, the Excalibur blade in hand. It was burning him badly, burning Balthier's hands, but he did not care. Lightning scrambled backward in an attempt to avoid the sword, but she was uncoordinated from the aftereffects of the broken neck—she was not going to make it.

The Madness hissed and darted forward, tangling himself under Adrammelech's feet and causing him to stumble. Lightning staggered to her feet, sword at the ready, while howling in anger, the Lucavi god turned on the creature by his feet. The Madness fluttered his broken wings weakly, ruined feathers strewing the floor.

"_Again, you have meddled in things of the gods, foolish Madness. And now, your punishment!_"

The Madness screeched when the blade, crackling with god magicks, pierced his back. He struggled, black blood spilling from the wound and his mouth, but to no avail. Adrammelech gave the blade a final wrench, and the Madness's legs went slack beneath him. He collapsed to the ground; smiling with satisfaction, the Lucavi turned away and busied himself with harrying Ramza and Agrias. They proved to be stronger than he'd reckoned, and snarling, Adrammelech fled through a broken window.

Lightning knelt by the Madness tenderly. He rose to his front paws weakly, attempting to move toward her, dragging his dysfunctional hindquarters along, but his front legs could not support his weight and he sank back to the ground with a quiet whine.

"Hang in there," she whispered, hands dancing with dark magick. "You'll be okay; you're immortal, aren't you?"

The wound sucked in the magick and did not heal. Raw, animal terror danced in his eyes as he stared up at Lightning, uncomprehending and in pain. His back and abdomen burned as if a living flame had burst inside of him, and he drooled and snarled when Cidolfus approached, lips frothing with black, blood-flecked foam, no recognition on his face, not even when his terrified eyes alighted back on Lightning's face above him.

"You'd best put him out of his misery, Phoenix," Cid said softly, watching the Madness pant and growl like a caged, destroyed beast. "Look what the Holy magick is doing to him."

Blood matted his fur and twisted it into sticky clumps, but the woman holding him ran her fingers through it anyway, avoiding the gaping hole in his back that wept openly.

"He can't die—not like this… what will happen to Balthier?"

The Madness attempted to growl again and stand up when the hated knight approached, a hand glowing with Holy, but the woman held him tightly.

"Balthier will be fine, I think. Chances are that the Madness and Balthier will join back together once he dies." The older man's voice was reassuring, but not to him. The woman did not seem very convinced, either.

The woman's stroking continued, and the Madness closed his eyes, too weak to keep them open anymore.

_I hear a song_.

The holy spell burned its way through him. Soon it would reach his magickal core, and he would die.

_I want to sleep…_

The woman's fingers were warm, stroking his fur even as he expired into dust and bone, floating away out the broken window.

* * *

><p>Balthier came to in a clearing a short distance away from the manse, soaking in the cold night air. He nearly vomited at the stench of his own hand, rotting away with Holy magick. Something was whispering insidiously in his head, but it was not the Madness. The voice urged him on, and clutching his head, while internally begging the voice to stop, he stumbled across a woman with pink hair and her small cortege. The latter drew swords, but the woman only placed her hand on her blade, inching toward him.<p>

She said his name, she knew his name…

"Help me," he rasped, swallowing more blood flecked sputum. His body was covered in gashes he did not remember acquiring. "_Please_…"

His eyes alit on the boy, a young, blond thing. Rage rose within him, and a familiar voice whispered vengeance.

_He is the one who hurt us, Ffamran. Kill him, and take your rightful place at the Mistress's side!_

Hm…?

"You're not the Madness. What… who are you?" he murmured. He began to shake, and pain erupted across his body again as he refused to do as the voice told.

_Silly Ffamran. You still can't tell?_

He looked again toward the small group of warriors, caught their fear scent, and the Lucavi stench over it all…

Adrammelech.

"_Please_," Balthier whispered, directing his plea toward the woman who said his name. "_Help me… I don't want… to become a monster… not like this. Please… I'm… human…_"

The woman shook her head, but moved forward anyway. As soon as she touched him, everything went dark.

* * *

><p>"Balthier?"<p>

Sloth yawned. He could hardly be bothered to respond to the voice or move his eyes from the view of the Void, even if the voice was decidedly feminine. Perhaps it was Lust, come to bother him again by disguising himself as a woman, but Lust hadn't been there for a while.

"Balthier, I'm talking to you." A foot nudged his back.

"What?" Sloth finally rolled over, complaining. "Who are you? Who's Balthier? Hm?"

The pink haired woman glared down at him, but he could hardly be bothered to feel frightened.

"There you are, Sloth! Gluttony and I have been looking all over for you!" Envy waltzed over to them, Gluttony in tow. The latter's eyes glowed monstrously yellow in the dim light, and upon seeing Sloth, he growled, sharp teeth flashing. Envy glanced toward the pink haired woman.

"Who's that, Sloth? Your new girl? She looks nice."

"We just met. I don't even know her name, and no, she's not my girl." Sloth yawned. Envy beamed.

"Excellent! T'would be a shame if she belonged to _you_."

The woman glared at them. "Balthier, what is going _on?_ Why are there three of you?"

Envy rubbed his hands together, while Gluttony eyed her hungrily. "Well… normally there are seven of us, see? But Wrath is angry at us, so he wouldn't come when Pride called and Lust went off to go find him. Greed is on his way, and Pride likes to make us wait, because he thinks he's the best."

The woman rubbed her head.

"…And I thought one Balthier was bad enough…"

Envy tilted his head as Wrath, Greed, and Lust materialized out of the darkness.

"Balthier? Who is that?"

The woman looked horrified.

"You see, we are just thoughts—fragments. Incomplete pieces of a whole."

"Then Balthier is your whole. He looks exactly like all of you," the woman replied.

Lust eyed her thoughtfully. "If Balthier is the whole, who are you? Not one of us."

"I'm Lightning."

The six fragments of Balthier's soul let out a collective "oh".

"I apologize for keeping you waiting." Pride strode from the darkness dragging a child Balthier, before tossing the boy to the ground. "I found another one."

"Dammit, I'm Balthier!" the boy shouted, jumping to his feet. Envy grinned.

"He's cute!" he chirped, while Greed slapped him. Pride sighed.

"I came to warn you that there is an intruder in our realm. A god."

"_I… I… want to eat…_" Gluttony drooled, tongue lolling, a mad light shining in his eyes. Lightning shivered. "_C-can I… eat him?_"

Pride smirked, a vile expression that better sat on the face of a monster than any Hume.

"When we find him, don't even leave a finger."

As the sins argued, Balthier quietly made his way to Lightning and took her hands.

"Balthier, please, _tell me_ you know who I am or what's going on!" she whispered fiercely.

"I…I have memories. Bits and pieces. I know you are not my enemy, and I know your name, but… there are other things, looser things. But that's not important. It is that a god has gained entry to my soul and now attempts to bend me to his beck and call."

"Adrammelech… he killed the Madness." Lightning's voice choked. Balthier stroked her fingers.

"The monster known as 'Madness'… it is not as dead as you would think. You were looking at him earlier. He gains his strength back, feeding on the conflict in my soul… but at its base, Madness is created from those seven fragments." Balthier glanced toward the sins. Some were screaming, others weeping, but a bright light began to envelope them. Soon, all seven sins began to merge, and the screams and voices grew louder.

"…_Mama!"_

"_Kill…me…"_

"_Ha ha! Ha ha ha!"_

"_It hurts…!"_

"_**Don't…**__"_

From the light, a nightmare emerged.

"_**Claire… DON'T LOOK AT ME!**__"_

The Madness took form, screaming and writhing in agony and despair.

A hideous form; half-formed muscle and flesh hanging from yellowing bone. A skull crying black blood that ran over its fanged teeth swung toward them, staring with eyeless holes, while human torsos, arms, and legs wriggled among what flesh it had. Leathery, bat like wings beat the ether as the gross monstrosity towered over them. There were human faces in its flesh, crying, and among the voices were those of the dead the Madness consumed, and the voices of the dead whose stories he heard.

_"Well, I suppose Balthier and Fran are going to have a bit more trouble, huh? You'll tell them I'm sorry, won't you, Light?"_

_"A dream, huh? This is...a pretty good one, then..."_

_"__**Don't**__..."_

_"I don't understand! Why are you after Balthier? He's not a monster, he's_—_"_

_"You don't know...how long I've waited to hear that from you..."_

_"__**Don't look at me!**__"_

The Madness's shriek rose above it all, and it turned away, trying to hide its gruesomeness, but Lightning could not look away. She gagged, covering her mouth. "Hm…" Balthier tugged her away, deeper into the city, away from the Madness. "Under all that fur, that _is_ what he looks like, you know."

"Yeah… one second." Lightning threw up, and Balthier looked away to give her privacy.

"That is the result of eating hume souls," he said softly as Lightning rose to her feet again.

"Shut up. I want to find Adrammelech, kill him, and get out of here."

They eventually found Adrammelech where the Madness's nest should have been; he sat in the sideways palace, as if it were a throne. Balthier bristled.

"That place does not belong to you."

"_Your soul is mine, Ffamran. It all belongs to me._"

Mist seeped through the walls.

"The Madness will not be pleased. He is not as reasonable as he usually is."

Adrammelech burst out laughing. Stars formed in the sky above the void.

"_You know how the original form of Madness was born. He was created by a man who feared everything… and the Madness now is simply controlled by fear. He is afraid to frighten away the woman whose trust he has just earned…_"

Lightning's breath hitched as she looked back the way they came from, where the Madness still screamed.

A triangle formed beneath Adrammelech, and two Balthier doppelgangers flickered at its corners. "Demon," Balthier hissed. "You don't know anything."

The meteor plummeted from the sky, glowing with heat and anguish, but just before it connected, it transformed into the Madness's grotesque form. Its skeletal arms tore at the Lucavi demon, while its skull greedily bit and ripped.

"_Don't look…!_"

"_Mama!_"

Adrammelech screamed, a horrible sound, as the Madness held him tightly.

"_Go!_"

"_Leave me alone!_"

"_Don't look at me!_"

"_**Claire! Finish this!**_"

Lightning drew her gunblade and dashed forward, vaulting into the air, and brought her blade smashing down through the Esper's head. White lightning crackled through the air, and as all faded to white, the Madness bent its head and began to eat.

* * *

><p>When he woke up, there was something hard crawling up his throat. Balthier rolled over and coughed ferociously, sides heaving, before with a twinkle, the Capricorn gem dropped out of his mouth and onto the floor. Ramza gingerly picked up the Stone, while Cidolfus continued bandaging Balthier's rotting hand.<p>

Lightning swooped down upon him immediately, cradling his head in her lap.

"The Madness," she whispered ferociously. "Is he okay?"

Balthier gave her a silver glare, before he smiled, relaxing under her touch, and purred.


	9. Black Blood and Red Rose: The End

WELL. Gotta thank my Tango who kept kicking me to get through this. It has been a LONG time since I updated. And this is a LONG story. SO LONG. And SAD. I've cried so much because of this story because it has taken on more meaning to me than I can even convey through this story (which I am ashamed to say, but it is true.) WELL. Here is the conclusion.

* * *

><p>The soft thrum of rain on the roof of the tavern gently pulled Balthier from his state of blank repose—it could not be called sleeping, but it was not thinking, either. Occasionally, wind would blow in a different direction (he could feel it through the cracks in the crumbling wall and smell it in the air) and the rain would patter against the window, drumming like a thousand fingers of tiny children on the glass.<p>

Fate had an odd hand in providing the set for their current act. The roof of the tavern sagged with age, the walls damp with rot. The scent of decay hung heavily in the air like an old, wet rag. Balthier thought to open the window and let in some fresh air, but that would mean letting in more water, and heaven knew he rotted enough already without more moisture to accelerate the process.

He flexed his hands, wincing slightly as the scars and scabs cracked. Because he had become slightly ill from over exposure to Holy magick, the others, and Lightning, left him behind in the room they bought for their stay in Mullonde so that he could recover. There wasn't much to do—talk to the Madness, which was the same as talking to himself, or sleep, which was damn next to impossible. He ran bandaged-swathed fingers trailing Dark over his bound hands, the magick soothing the Holy burns.

Ramza had insisted on locking him in the room, like a domesticated fiend, claiming that he meant to keep Balthier safe from bounty hunters while his hands were out of commission. The prisoner suspected that this was revenge for the venomous bite that he'd given Ramza almost a week ago. Balthier sighed, lying back on one of the beds (why they had requested five beds when he didn't need one, he did not know…) and staring at the ceiling.

Hours later, the door opened, and the party trooped back in, soaked to the skin from the pouring rain. Lightning tossed a bundle of medical supplies on top of him, and he huffed irritably, sitting up and propping himself up on an elbow. Lightning sat down next to him.

"Hands," she commanded, picking up a spool of bandages and unraveling them. Balthier held the requested appendages out to her, too clumsy from the wound to bind them himself. As the scent of his own rotting flesh filled the air, he grimaced, while Lightning sighed.

"What am I ever going to do with you, pirate? You get into so much trouble."

Balthier grinned. "Well, with you here to look after me and punch me every time I do something wrong, I'll manage, I suppose. Though, I managed for a few centuries… alone." he thought of Fran and wondered what happened to her, but the Madness overrode him.

"I've missed you," he murmured as she continued bandaging his hands. Lightning didn't look up.

"It has only been three hours, Balthier."

The Madness whined softly. "No, it's been a week," he mewled. "_I_ have not been with you for a week. I already miss you."

Lightning glanced up at him then, realizing who was talking to her.

"It was fun, _being_with you. It was the one game that I lost; I lost to you."

"Aren't you with me, though?" Lightning asked, reaching up with her free hand to run a hand along his cheek and through his hair. He purred loudly, ignoring the looks that the others gave him, and leaned toward her, catlike in the enjoyment of her touch.

"You know what I am," the Madness whimpered. "You can't say that, Claire."

"He's become as lazy as a cat, Light." Balthier complained. "All he wants is to do is lie around and be petted and stroked by you. It's wreaking havoc on me."

"I'm not alone when you're here," the Madness fretted, tugging at his cuffs. Lightning gently pulled his hands away and occupied him by bandaging his other hand. "I don't know what I would do if you left me. When we part ways again, you have to keep coming to see us. No one wants to come near us because they _think_they know what we are."

Lightning was silent, and she took a deep breath. "Balthier," she began tentatively, "and Madness, you too. If I were to go away for… a long time, what would you do?"

Balthier blinked at her. "I'm not sure," he conceded. "I must say that you're the only constant thing in my unending life. Everything else changes—I have seen cities crumble and new ones spring up in their place. The thing that has never changed is you."

The Madness's reaction was different. It began to sob softly, shoulders shaking. "You're keeping secrets, Light, and we don't like it," he mewled between hiccups. "You don't really love us, do you? It's just because we look like that—that Other that you died for. I should have eaten his soul while I could!" he gave an inhuman wail, snarling at the place where Other Balthier stood. "You're going to go away, aren't you? You're going to leave me by myself, and I'll never see you again."

Lightning shut her eyes. "Stop crying," she commanded, though tears began to slide from her own cheeks.

"You don't understand. You _don't_. Light, I don't have anything left—it was my fault. I did it—I killed Fran and ate her soul. I could show it to you. But I was so scared that she thought I was a lost cause—I didn't want her to leave me, so I ate her and now I keep her inside of me… with all the others…" the Madness wept. Lightning put an arm about his shoulders, and pressed her head against his.

"Please," she whispered. "Stop it. I can't—"

The Madness only withdrew within himself, and slowly, Balthier stopped crying, but instead of becoming himself once more, Balthier remained an emotionless husk and lie back down, staring at the ceiling blankly. It was the only way he could stop the creature's grief. Lightning gave a frustrated, teary sigh; though she seemed as if she wanted to leave, she instead remained at his side, her fingers combing through his hair as she lay down next to him. After several minutes, he shut his eyes, a faint purr whirring in his chest.

* * *

><p>"Remind me why we're doing this again?" Lightning sat on one of the beds, her arms folded across her chest, as she watched Balthier fuss with her hair. The usually neatly parted, silver pink waterfall had been brushed out, and in its place, Balthier had arranged a passable noblewoman's hairstyle that would have passed muster among the Archadian aristocracy.<p>

"Disguise," he replied through a mouthful of hairpins, gently taking a stray lock and tucking it into an ornate swirl. "It will be easiest this way. You're going to pretend to be a noblewoman, yes? Say that there is a relative of yours interred within the crypt. They will warn you that there is a monster down there, but don't worry; that was me. Now, it may be a different story."

Ramza looked at him sharply. "What do you mean?"

"Before I joined your little journey, I would sometimes use Mullonde as a hiding place from bounty hunters. The catacombs below are very pleasant—for someone like me, that is," he amended, seeing Lightning's face. "However, it began to have a—a bad feeling about it… I just— had a premonition about it. I couldn't stay, so I left." Balthier shrugged, leaning back to study his masterpiece.

"Like a creature that senses a storm about to break…" Cid muttered, stroking his beard. Balthier inclined his head, shrugging a shoulder.

"For this reason, I suspect that a Lucavi has made of the place a base for his dastardly operations," Ramza explained. "The Stones we had resonated when we reached Mullonde. Something is there."

"Yeah, that's great," Lightning muttered. "But why am I the noble woman? Why couldn't I have been something more humble, like… I don't know, the nun?"

Balthier smirked, a flash of ripping teeth glinting in the light. "Because," he purred, "your hair is such an outlandish color that the only people who could possibly get away with it are of the aristocracy."

Ragnarok and Other Balthier chortled at his jab, while Lightning rose to punch him. Balthier danced out of her reach, then picked up the ornate, vermilion dress he and Cid picked out earlier in the day.

"I'll wear that for one punch." Lightning snarled.

"One I would gladly take." Balthier replied.

Three minutes later, Lightning flounced into the bathroom with the dress to change with Agrias, while Cid and Ramza laughed at Balthier, who crouched on the ground, healing his broken jaw. When he stood back up, cracking the bones in place, Cid fixed him with a knowing gaze, but said nothing, for which the sky pirate was extremely thankful.

* * *

><p>The rain slackened slightly when they left the inn and trudged down the muddy street toward the Mullonde chapel, the wet earth sucking at their heels like a living creature trying to swallow them down.<p>

"Remember what I told you," Balthier whispered in Lightning's ear. "Tell the guards you're visiting a long dead relative. Say it's the anniversary of their death."

She gave him a firm shove with the butt of her red parasol, nearly sending him to the ground as his feet slipped on the wet grass invading the crumbling stone path.

"I'm not comfortable with this. I don't want to lie just so we can fight another Lucavi." At this, she lowered her eyes, wilting slightly. "And what do you expect me to say? 'Excuse me, good sirs. Might I venture into the tomb with my undead companion?'"

The comment only partially amused the mentioned "undead companion," who merely gave her a small, reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Now I understand why the Madness refuses to play cards with you… Just do your best, and if things get out of control… I will gladly step in."

The Madness, fast asleep in his nest, stirred faintly and curled his paws, maliciousness almost radiating from his curled body like a tangible force. Then the creature snuffled slightly, dreaming his poisoned dreams. Balthier carefully suppressed any ill will he bore for the men guarding the cathedral's wrought-iron gates before the Madness woke up for a snack and a rampage. Almost as if she could sense that the Madness no longer slept as soundly as before, Lightning patted Balthier's head and pushed him towards the woods where Ramza and the others waited. Almost instantly, the Madness fell back into his deep slumber.

"I'm not sure I want your help. I can handle it." She waited until he had reached the tree cover before she turned back to the guards and squared her shoulders to speak with them.

Balthier leaned against a thick tree, closing his eyes and listening to the leaves rustle and sigh. How he hated sighs—it was as if life escaped on one's very breath with every sigh they heaved. How much life did one have, anyway? Lightning sighed so much…

He wondered how much life she had left. But she couldn't die.

Could she?

_But she has us_, the Madness whispered, opening his eyes tiredly. _She won't leave us. She can't abandon me, I need her. She won't leave right? She was only asking the question because she wanted to know. We all want to know things, right? _

"I am not too sure. I am mad, Madness. I am certain of nothing but that anymore." Balthier touched a hand to his head when pain lanced through it as the Madness began to panic, scrabbling at the walls of the Void and begging him to go to Lightning to make sure she was still there.

"Is the little one causing problems for you, Godless Thief?" Cid smiled, merry as usual despite the rain dripping from the brown cloth of his hood.

"Just a little bit. He is afraid that Lightning has vanished in the past five minutes." Balthier replied.

"Well, clearly she's still there. The guards are giving her strange looks—Oh! My phoenix, you will never be good at lying, will you?"

The Madness growled angrily, squirming for the surface before Balthier hushed him. "I think we should move before the Madness decides to take drastic measures."

They jumped over the fence just as the guards returned to their posts, leaving Lightning alone by the open vault door.

"I threw Ragnarok into a tree. He was getting a little too mouthy for me to handle." Balthier began to laugh at Lightning's words, the first real laughter he had released in a few weeks.

"We can't just leave him there," Agrias cried when she found Lightning fiddling with the strings of her bodice.

"I agree. If anyone was to get their hands on the Lucavi's stone, who knows what might happen? We need the creature in order to save Alma." At his words, and Lightning's expression, Balthier sobered.

_Nothing would happen_, he thought glumly. _As much as we both detest it, Ragnarok's host is me._

"Listen, Ramza. Ragnarok is not a Lucavi. He was bound to the Stone because he _refused_ to be like those monsters. Stop treating every otherworldly being like them! First Balthier, then the Madness, and now Ragnarok? What about me? Am I a monster, too?" Lightning's voice peaked, then she stomped away to change into her squire armor. She rejoined them shortly after, though her face seemed set into a grim frown.

"You look rather fetching in red," Balthier remarked in an attempt to break the tension, watching her latch the metal plates back across her chest and shoulders. "True to your namesake." Her false-breath hitched for a moment.

"And what of you? The Godless Thief hiding in the holiest of Cathedrals?"

"I dislike meeting the predictable expectations of others," Balthier said, waltzing down the corridor as if it were the grandest of mansions rather than a death-ridden crypt. At first, Lightning seemed entranced by the carvings of angels throwing devils to the floor, spears and swords poised to deliver the ultimate judgment, but soon, only Balthier remained unaffected by the decidedly grotesque faces the angels began to assume.

"I can barely see my hand in front of my face," Agrias complained. "Shall we light a torch? I am surprised you navigated this labyrinth without any assistance, Balthier."

"I rely on my hearing and sense of smell; I would advise against a light. Many of those hunting me thought to do the same; I had to do naught but wait for them to succumb to their fear…"

"_They buried me alive… I only didn't pay the tithe once. But they did not forgive…_"

"_Take up my sword, that I may taste a little revenge…_"

"_Let me go, I forsake my earthly bonds!_"

Balthier laughed, the sound echoing off the walls.

"So much death! All the souls, bound in one place. Can you see them?" he laughed again, turning to face Lightning.

"I can't see a thing." Lightning said flatly.

"Hm, well I did try to make you see, years and years ago," Balthier hummed, glancing about the room. The walls glowed red with the taint of evil souls, trapped within the catacomb.

Lightning's voice, quavering behind him, rose above the angry voices of the tortured souls.

"Balthier… there are bones in the wall."

"_She speaks true._" Balthier froze at the voice, soft and high pitched, an angel's knell. The red haze of evil souls rose from the screaming mouths of skulls that covered the walls and cobweb-strewn chandeliers fashioned from the bones of others, coalescing before them to become…

Penelo.

"Balthier!" she squealed as she flung herself into his arms, pressing her pleasantly warm face against his chest. Balthier stiffened in terror as she placed her mouth directly over the medallion. "It's been so long! When I finally found you here, you left! You almost made me think you didn't want to see me again! I'm hurt!"

"I—"

So strange—when she touched him, his heart started again. It thundered in terror in his breast, blood racing beneath his veins. Somehow, he had returned to the living. With a start, he gave an agonized gasp for air, unaccustomed to having to breathe. His lungs reacted violently, and he broke into a fit of coughing. Lightning turned toward him, lips parting in surprise. He knew it; she had at least learned some things. She could hear his heart beating. When Penelo caught sight of Lightning, however, something ugly flew into her face.

"Who's she?" the words bit and tore, like a physical blade. Balthier struggled to remember how to talk and breathe at the same time for a moment.

"Someone… very special," he managed to wheeze eventually. "The one person who I cannot… _must not_ lose…"

The young girl's eyes burned with jealousy as she pressed herself against his chest, hands stroking where his heart labored.

"Oh. What a shame." Lightning stumbled backward before Penelo plunged her hand through Lightning's chest, right where her heart should have been. However, when the girl pulled her hand free, licking the blood away, she chirruped with glee.

"Another one! You're just like Balthier, before I turned him back!" she pressed her fingers against Lightning's stomach, but when Lightning remained the same, she frowned, pouting. "Curse the White Lady's protection!"

Lightning unsheathed her gunblade, and Ramza, Agrias, and Cid followed suit. Balthier pulled Fomalhaut from his back.

"Penelo? Why are you here?"

Penelo smirked, revealing a mouth full of broken, yellow teeth.

"I'm taking Balthier." A dagger appeared in her hand, black and red, an assassin's dagger.

The next thing Balthier knew, the dagger plunged into his tripping heart, all the way to the hilt. Penelo pulled the knife from him, her eyes cruel and impassive. His hands found their way to the bloodied hole, his fingers stained red with the life that dripped out with every beat of his broken heart. Then, all went dark.

Balthier awoke with a gasp in a pool of salty water. Moonlight streamed down on him, but unlike all the other times, he did not become a skeleton: he remained whole. A cursory look revealed that this was the cavern that housed the cursed treasure of Cortes: Isla de Muerta. A splash nearby prompted him to find Lightning dragging herself out of another one of the many puddles of brackish seawater, and he quickly scrabbled over the rocks to help her. As soon as he took her hand, he realized how cold she was, just as she seemed to grasp what had happened to him.

"Balthier!" she cried. "You're… you're alive."

He smiled, a laugh escaping. "Yes… human again, it seems."

"I mean, you were stabbed in the heart. I saw you fall." Lightning's lips quivered and she drew close, soaking in his living heat. Balthier bit his lip.

"I don't remember any of that… I remember Penelo returning from the joining of all the evil souls, and I remember coming back to life when she touched me—painful, by the way—and then…it's a blank page." He looked down at her suspiciously. Lightning stroked his chest, right where his heart was, listening to him breathe.

"_It is time for you to decide, Ffamran_." Penelo appeared by the stone chest and swept the lid off. The golden skulls grinned up at them, glinting in the moonlight. "It's been six hundred years since that day: and I give you a choice now. You know what happened when you accepted the medallion, so that you could return home to Fran. That day, you threw away your humanity for a human choice. I give you the choice now: you may leave this cave—go back to witty Jack and the Black Pearl. Content yourself with the wind of the sea, the song of the gulls. Remain a human unto death."

"_Or take a coin_." Her voice changed to the wash of waves breaking on a white beach at sunset. "_Become the monster again. Lose yourself like a ship in the storm, into the gullet of the maelstrom, never to return. Take your curse and die even as you live._"

Balthier turned nervous eyes toward Lightning; he felt so fragile. She only looked back at him, a sad look in her eyes.

"Well…" he murmured, lowering his gaze. "I have lived a long time. I have done… things I am not proud of. Even as a monster, I am still a human. I can never be perfect." Lightning held him tightly, her eyes locking with his before darting away. She would not help him in this decision, it seemed. "But I have seen many good things, too." He selected a medallion from the chest, and felt his warmth fade. Lightning shut her eyes, pressing her ear against his chest as his heart stuttered to a stop.

Penelo screamed angrily, the rock walls shattering into oblivion. They stood in the crypt surrounded by bones. Balthier pressed a hand to the sharp pain in his ribcage and looked down; Red blood slowly turning black dribbled thickly from a slit in his chest— he'd been stabbed.

"You were supposed to say _no!_ You were supposed to refuse and die! To refuse the curse of undeath and die by my blade—that was your fate, why do you rebel?"

Her hand scrabbled against his chest, trying to rip through his vest for the coin that housed his soul. "_Do you know what my dying thought was? You knew the secret to immortality—you found the Fountain of Youth: and you didn't share it with us. You could have given us eternity, but—_"

Lightning broke in. "You _want_ that curse?" she spat. "You're more foolish than I thought, Penelo."

Penelo turned dark eyes upon her.

"Foolish, Light. Now you'll get caught up in her games, too…" Balthier breathed, before they were swept away into a new void.

* * *

><p>The auracite of Feolthanos towered above them once again, and Lightning stood before it, with… with… with Ffamran? Balthier shook his head and looked again—no, it wasn't Ffamran, it was something—someone else, it had to be, how else could there be three of them? Ffamran stood next to him, confusion seeping into his face.<p>

"Ffamran…" Lightning gasped, touching the illusion's face. Balthier realized she could not see the true him or the real, ghostly Ffamran. But then, the most horrid stench assailed them—even Ffamran, who was hume, could smell it, and they gagged. But Lightning… she could not see. Could not see that the _thing_ standing before her had seaweed for hair. Eyes made of sea-glass and skin of sponge and coral. The stench of the sea and all things dead poured from it when it moved, and its voice belonged to sailors lost at sea.

But Lightning could not see. She kept calling to it, and finally it turned, smiling_—gods!_ The sight was terrifying!—and began to speak. It reached for her with oozing fingers and—Balthier had enough.

Fomalhaut nearly jumped into his hands and in the next moment, he pulled the trigger.

The thing from the sea fell back as the bullet punched through its chest, brown sea-glass eyes blank—as they should be. But Lightning began screaming, turning toward him and drawing her gunblade, and dashing for him, screaming Feolthanos's name.

_She thinks we're Feolthanos!_ Ffamran exclaimed. _She's going to try to kill you, for only an Eternal can kill their own kind…_

"_You can save him, Claire,_" Penelo purred. "_Save your sweet little Ffamran. Slay Feolthanos—use his anima to restore the life of your loved one._"

Her gunblade grazed the side of his face. Balthier cursed and tried to get Penelo between them, but Lightning shoved past the young girl, crying angrily.

"_Make him Eternal._"

Lightning froze. "Make Ffamran Eternal?" Penelo nodded.

"_He would join you in eternity. You would never be alone._"

Before Balthier knew it, Ffamran was upon him.

"_Don't do it, Light!_" Lightning jerked and turned toward him. "_See past the illusion—you were always the smartest of the l'Cie._"

Her lip curled.

"And why should I trust you, Feolthanos? Balthier is much more deserving of eternity than you."

"_Feolthanos is another illusion—I have no desire for eternity, Light. You said so yourself. It's a curse. Every day I blame myself for doing this to you._"

Lightning realized who was speaking to her and her gunblade clattered to the floor. She touched his face with trembling hands, his name on her lips.

"Is it… really you? You're still here? You should have moved on, a long time ago."

"_I should have_," he murmured, "_but I did not._"

"If this is you… what is that on the ground?"

"_A trap. You would have made… it… Eternal, and it would have leaped up and killed you. Look at it closely, Light. The Madness is what enables my other and I to see it, but can you?_"

Lightning gasped and stumbled backward when she looked back, her face paling. "I was going to give _that_ immortality?"

"_Indeed._ _And… even if you did, I would be very disappointed in you, Light. That you would consider making me immortal… it is most unacceptable._"

"Is that your decision?" Penelo asked, tapping her foot.

Lightning turned to face her. "Yes."

"Hm… and I wished you would bring my puppet to life." Penelo smiled, as Lemures crumbled.

"_I just remembered my dying thought… I thought that you would be lonely, being immortal all alone._"

Then she was gone, and Balthier recognized the sigh that breathed through the room, dislodging skulls and bones and sending them clattering to the floor.

"Calypso…"

"_Human._"

"Why?"

"_Am I not entitled to see my creation?_"

"Creation, is it…? I was under the impression you were dead."

"_I am the shadow of the goddess Calypso. Soon I will fade._"

"Then tell us this: who put you up to this?" Balthier asked, tilting his head up to view the darkness.

"_A lion. He knew I wanted to see you again—to try to break you again._"

"And why drag Lightning into this?"

"_A test. To see her will to let go of the past._"

"And?"

Only silence.

"…Lightning? Do you think… think you passed the test?" Balthier asked softly.

Lightning only closed her eyes and looked away.

* * *

><p>She did not speak for the rest of the night. Balthier could hear voices, but he knew them to be that of Lightning's and Ragnarok's as they conversed quietly in the secure darkness of the tent where she hid. Ramza had brought him a lyre they had bought from an old bard earlier that day, and while the sky pirate was in no mood to sing, he allowed his fingers to ghost over the strings and pull long strands of ancient song from the instrument. It was as if he was at home again, trying to teach himself the ways of the instrument for the first time. He kept tensing his fingers, expecting the strings to shatter the way his violin strings did in the Void, yet they held.<p>

_You're sad. Don't bother lying, Claire…_ Ragnarok's voice buzzed in the back of his mind. The Madness put his paws over his ears, trying to shut out the voice, and continued to sleep.

Balthier allowed his fingers to keep moving, instinctively finding a tune he knew.

He could not remember the words. Balthier shut his eyes, seeking the words that would not come.

_Perhaps he is afraid to move on…_ The Madness whimpered and shifted in his sleep, irked by Ragnarok's voice.

Balthier continued to draw quiet music from the lyre, but Lightning suddenly burst out of her tent and rushed into the woods. He could feel Ffamran nearby, throwing off his internal balance like a compass with a magnet held nearby, but he was fading, growing farther and farther away. A wave of inexplicable sadness washed over him—not his own feelings, but Ffamran's. Something had clearly upset the ghost. Balthier shut his eyes; loss, anger, and guilt crawled by in quick succession, an empty hole opening in his chest to devour any shred of happiness he may have possessed before, and then—

It was gone. Suddenly worried, the sky pirate rose to his feet in one, fluid motion and bowed courteously to Agrias, before he vanished into the woods. The ground under his feet turned to mud as he continued to run—water dripped like tears from stands of willow growing alongside the road. Ever in the background, the river flowed on, unperturbed by what must have just taken place. He finally found Lightning kneeling in the mud over her auracite crystal, sobbing gently and whispering silent words to the wind.

There were no words that needed to be said. He simply gathered her into his arms, and finally the real storm broke. Lightning—strong, infallible Lightning—gave into his embrace, resting her head on his shoulder as her own shoulders shook. On the inside, the emptiness did not go away. It only grew bigger as Ffamran, that old, unshakeable ghost, departed the living world, ordered away like cast of clothes, no doubt. Yet, that couldn't be, for Lightning cried as if her heart had been torn out.

Balthier accompanied her back to the camp, leading her through the dark places of the woods where no one could see them, but they finally came stumbling out of the woods and into the light. As soon as Agrias saw them, she bundled Lightning into a blanket and set her down by the fire, pouring her some warm water from the small pot bubbling over the flames. The Madness, concerned, moved closer to her, and sure enough, her small hands, warmed by the water, snaked out of the blanket and grasped his own. Balthier tucked one foot underneath him and allowed his arm to rest on his knee, focusing his eyes upon the embers rising from the fire pit. He tried to find words to comfort her, but the Madness bade him to be silent—_sometimes silence is a balm_.

"…Gemini, Capricorn, and Serpentarius. Two of those Lucavi have…Lucavi's assistance in this fight." Ramza's voice snaked in and out of Balthier's mind as his attention drifted from the boy's speech to Cidolfus's rummaging behind the tents.

"And just what are we fighting?" Agrias asked, tossing her braid over her shoulder.

"All the Lucavi have spoken of a master… an Angel of Blood. And that sea goddess: what was it she said pir—pardon, Balthier?"

Balthier jumped when his name came (albeit hesitantly) tumbling from Ramza's mouth.

"I—that is—she said a lion told her to confront me and break my will," he replied. He let go of Lightning's hand and rested his chin meditatively in his palm, silver eyes studying the pattern of the fire. "There is only one Lucavi that fits that descriptor. Hashmal has followed our trail of bread crumbs and is ready to end the hunt. Whether or not we end it on our own terms is your own choice."

Ramza lowered his eyes, allowing the Gemini stone to tumble from hand to hand while he made a show of trying to think.

"So I must be the one to make the final decision?" He looked up, black mirth in his eyes. Balthier shrugged, running his hands through his already tousled hair.

"If it were up to me, I wouldn't be here. But since I am _included_ in this little venture, I can't back out now."

"Why not?"

"I am only here to see how this story will unfold…" It felt as if he had said it before, a long time ago, yet the words tasted like ash on his tongue. They were weight, lead weight, but he didn't feel any lighter now that he said them. "To be honest, I sometimes wish for the happy ending that has eluded me for so long."

Almost a thousand years, to be precise. Also being honest, he could not see what his happy ending looked like. He thought he had it after Jack and the others had finally gotten what they wanted. While that left him saddled with the curse of undeath, it was bearable because Fran was there. At least _someone_ was there. But then, he had accidentally unleashed the Madness, the latent darkness that was born in the depths of his soul. The Madness stayed quiet at first—then devoured Fran when Balthier tried to rest for but a moment. And now—would he finally find peace? Perhaps settling down with someone just like him—well, not actually settling down, but finally having a companion—it almost seemed like it was too much to hope for. Yet, Balthier hoped.

"You may tell the Madness that just because he dozed off during our card game and lost, does not mean that he can tie my sword in trees when I am not looking," Cidolfus shook the blade of his sword in the sky pirate's face, leaves fluttering from the guard and pommel. The Madness, who had been dozing from boredom, suddenly perked up, smirking.

"I was not aware of this. Perhaps Lindzei is the culprit, not I." The Madness's easy deflection of Cid's accusation seemed to infuriate the aged hume. "However, I will say that it would be wise of you to watch where you toss your weapons aside at night. You might accidentally skewer someone." The knight swung the sword angrily, the tip tickling the pit of Balthier's throat, ready to run it through.

"And _I_ will say that it is wise to mind what your little friend does at night. Are you aware he watches my Phoenix as she sleeps?"

The Madness purred happily, curling his paws into the cloth of his bed, while Balthier, wrestling control back from the creature, rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

"He's had that habit for a few weeks now."

Cid's mouth worked open and closed, angry, incoherent sounds spilling from his lips.

"And you've not tried to stop him?"

"I do as I please, and so does he."

As if troubled by his words, Lightning scrambled to her feet, clenching her fist about Ragnarok's green gemstone, then declared her intentions to go to bed. She swiftly vanished into the darkness of her tent, where the tell-tale green glow of Ragnarok's Stone revealed that she had actually began conversing with the trapped god.

Balthier sat down outside of the tent on a dry patch of grass, resting his head on his knees as he listened to her voice. Even with his good hearing, it was impossible to hear what passed between the two—Ragnarok must have somehow created a barrier. The Madness sighed forlornly, waiting for Lightning to actually go to sleep.

"…I saw my warm sun, I could hear the waves crashing against the sands of eternity…"

"_It was only a dream, princess._"

"Was it?"

Balthier carefully stepped into the tent. Lightning turned towards him, her expression fearful for a moment when he took her hand, then leaned forward to touch foreheads.

Perhaps the crazed creature was right, that silence could be a balm for a broken heart, but either way, he could feel Lightning slowly relax under his ministrations. Moonlight turned the tent fabric white.

And now… it was time for him to carry out his plans for the night. Perhaps a gift would cheer her up—something to show he remembered the important days, and that he cared. When he made to leave, Lightning twined her warm fingers about his and pulled him back.

"Stay, just for tonight."

He eyed her for a moment before kissing her forehead.

"As you wish."

That night, the Madness sent her a dream of airships sailing across blue skies and clouded shores. He pretended to ignore Ffamran's face submerged beneath the grey sea.

* * *

><p>In the wee hours of the morning, while the camp slumbered peacefully, Balthier rose from Lightning's side and left the tent with nary a sound. The moonlight, for once, acted in his favor, for upon hearing of his approach, the town he entered fell as silent as a grave.<p>

Picking the lock to a jeweler's shop, the sky pirate entered on cat's feet, padding across the room until he reached the cabinet. To be frank, the contents bored him. Fake gems winked at him in the dim light, and tarnished silver gleamed dully. Just as he began to despair, he caught sight of a brightly shining necklace at the back of his room. A lightning bolt, made of dark metals—sky metals. Perfect.

The lights turned on. Balthier swiped the necklace and fled, darting out the door and into the streets, dodging dogs who had wandered out to howl at the moon. Finally, he made it back to camp, but his pursuer stayed steady. Balthier instead skirted the camp, vanishing into the woods to a place he knew he would not quickly be found.

* * *

><p>Water splashed in the river—the only sound breaking the graveyard silence. The small trinket rolled through Balthier's skeletal fingers as he perched on the tombstone of… someone (the writing was too faded for him to read), examining his newly acquired necklace. Silver, like the moon, like his eyes, like… lightning.<p>

"Oh, what am I _thinking_…" he pressed his hands to his face. "I'm trying to help her move on, not—not get trapped in the past! And getting her another lightning bolt charm is supposed to do that?"

Maybe he could just throw it away. After all, he hadn't _paid_ anything for it, really. He tapped his chin idly, thinking about this, then—

"_There it is! Now!_"

Everything plunged into darkness as Balthier leaped up from his seat, his hand whirling toward his Yagyu Darkblade and pulling it in one, fluid motion. Just in time; he managed to interpose the blade between his neck and what must have been a broadsword. Swiping forward, he managed to clamp fingers of bone and rotten skin about a thin neck and fling his assailant into what sounded to be a bush. A decidedly feminine yelp shattered the sullen, graveyard air, followed by a moan of horror.

Then Ramza's voice—

"Agrias!"

Balthier jerked backward, in time for someone to barrel in to him and give him a good shove, while someone else plunged a sword almost down his throat. He toppled backward into the nearby stream, falling in with a splash.

"Blast it—Ramza!" he barked once he surfaced, fingers groping about his neck and collarbones for the blade trapped by his bones. "Do you have _any _idea how long it takes to dry out like this?"

"Balthier? What are you—I thought that you would have had the sense to lie low when the moon was out!" Lightning's voice snapped through his skull disapprovingly as she helped pull him out of the river with undue force.

"I apologize," Balthier replied, plucking a worm from his ribcage and cleaning waterweeds from his bones. "I had to go today—there was something rather important I had to attend to."

"Eating humes?"

Balthier smiled thinly, shaking his head. "No. It's been a while."

"A while? You know how dangerous that is! How long?"

Balthier opened his mouth to answer, but instead flinched away from the sudden assault of light into his eyes when Lightning grabbed his head none too gently and squeezed a bottle of eye drops in his face.

"Gods—damned—" he spluttered. "I'm wet enough already, Light, it's going to take _hours_ for me to dry!"

"I suppose I should be sorry, then, I'm the one who threw you in the river," she said brusquely. Cid scrubbed his chin only half-guiltily.

"And I suppose I might get my sword back, may I? I feared it lost when you fell into the river, but you brought it back with you."

Balthier grimaced as Cid drew the sword out, rubbing the entrance hole in a disgusted fashion.

"You haven't answered my question yet, Balthier." Lightning's voice drew him back into the present.

"A week," he replied softly, looking down and away.

"How have you managed?" Lightning whispered, touching chin and forcing him to meet her eyes.

"I tried fiend blood, but it only delays the inevitable and seems to make the hunger worse once it wears off." He pulled her hands from his face, gently kissing the back of her hand with cool, pale lips. She responded simply by running her hand through his graying hair and making a disgruntled noise.

"Cidolfus, an antidote!" Ramza's cry broke upon them, and they whirled to find him carrying Agrias, her skin pale and her breathing forced. Balthier felt his blood drain from his face—oh _gods_ he hadn't killed her, had he? No—the cloying, sweet stench rising from her body indicated poison, likely from the bush he had tossed her in earlier…

"It's too strong—the antidote does not take." Cid closed his eyes, searching for another solution, while Lightning tried a Poisona spell that went much the same way as the antidote.

Balthier eyed the blood dripping from a scrape on her hand, ringed by splinters and thrones. Deftly plucking it from her side (Ramza colored at this), he pulled the poisonous thorns from her skin with his teeth, then glanced up toward Lightning.

"May I?"

Holding her breath, she nodded.

"Only if you can stop."

"I give you permission to do whatever you can if I don't."

With that, he placed his lips over the wound and drank.

Agrias slept easy that night, in dreams induced by a spell to put her at peace while she healed, but Balthier's night was not as comfortable. Pain curled in his gut and torso, like fingers of flame in his stomach, distracting him.

"I told you," Lightning sighed, stroking his hair as he curled up with his head in her lap. "You should have spit it out instead of drinking it."

"I didn't want to waste it," he muttered gloomily, before snorting and smiling faintly. "And, I was too hungry."

Lightning sighed, leaning back on her palms, closing her eyes and letting him simply use her lap as a pillow while he bit back an impulse to moan in pain. It wouldn't do for Ramza to see.

"Fascinating!" Balthier growled and raised his head to see the newcomer: Cidolfus. "I did not think it was possible for the dead to be affected by poisons."

"It is not possible." Balthier replied. "But the poison entered my body through Agrias's blood. It's—" he bit back a groan. "It's destroying me from the inside…"

"It is just what a fiend like you deserves." Ramza stated, his hands tapping the pommel of his sword. "To be destroyed by the very thing that sustains you—how just."

"Just—just, he says!" Balthier's voice rose, and Lightning frowned as she pressed her hand against his face before laying cool cloth over his forehead. "After all I have done—with nary a 'thank you', by the way, and all I am is a fiend deserving justice? It is hardly fair; I have good intentions, I assure you of that. All that is wrong with me is that I am an animated corpse that must feed on humes to survive, and suddenly I am a fiend. You hardly look at Lightning the way you do look at me; hasn't it occurred to you that she is an undead, just like me?"

"Balthier…" Lightning touched his face again, but this time it was to calm him.

"Hm… I don't see anyone calling the humes monsters for slaughtering cows and sheep and eating their flesh."

"Well yes, but beasts aren't intelligent," Cid argued.

"Who said so? It is no different for me—I, too, must partake of flesh and blood, yet for that I am hunted and persecuted—'monster' they say, 'fiend'. What would they say if they knew that, once upon a time, the Godless Thief was hume? Long ago—long enough to forget what it is like, to feel my own blood stir in my veins." Balthier had shifted into a crouch, fingers twitching, twisting the grass. His tongue flickered out, wetting his pale lips, eyes two pinpoints of silver flame in the night.

Ramza seemed frozen to him; a statue of burning stone.

"Humes fear what they don't know. They fear the abyss—but what is death? A beyond? A void? A city, perhaps, sideways, of course—with water for sky and eternity stretching out below. One small step—and drop!" he laughed, a sharp, cutting sound. "In the past, the unknown was explored—my father explored. I remember that much. To find what could not be found. That was to be hume. And now—to explore what you fear. The undead. Whatever could they be?" he smirked pulling his knife. Lightning rose to her feet, admirable in her agility—however did she manage that?

_Experience_, a rational cell in his mind decided. Most of his mind did not exist in the same rationality.

"_I want to know!_"

In a heartbeat, he had her by the shoulders, Darkblade under her throat and tilting her chin up. Cid gave a shout, drawing his sword as if he could defend her. Balthier gave him a lazy, feline's perusal, considering him as a cat would a rather juicy mouse.

"Balthier, this is not you. Stop losing yourself to others—is it the Madness? Whoever is there, _stop_." Lightning's fingers rose, creeping across her own chest to brush against his hand where he held her tightly, pinned against him. He tightened his grip convulsively, the sword drawing a thin line of blood across her throat. She swallowed while he chuckled, breath tickling her ear, and licked at the red trail, tongue flickering over her soft skin.

"Hm… your skin is so very, very sweet," he breathed, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply.

Roses.

"I wonder what it would taste like once… exposed to a little air." He smirked again, nipping at the skin on her neck with sharp teeth again. Lightning tensed, her hand plunging for her gunblade, but with thief's skill, he plucked it from its sheath and tossed it aside.

"Let go of me, Balthier. You don't want to do this. Come with me—we'll find other things for you to eat," she said, pleading, placating, but—

"I'm rather partial to you, you see," he purred in her ear, ever so softly. "I don't want anyone else's but yours. I'm so hungry. Your scent is driving me mad. Now… let's get back to this dissection business. How shall I cut you up? Or, because I am so very fond of you, I will let you tell me how you would like me to cut you up."

"I don't want to be cut up," she replied. "You're out of your mind. Come back, Balthier. _Ffamran…_"

But his teeth was already in her flesh, and he drank hungrily until—

His chest hurt. Badly. He fell back, staggering against a tree trunk, a hand before his face. He tried to take a breath, to cry out, to—_anything_— but he could not. A fire burned inside, consuming his organs—so he thought.

The world spun and he was looking at the tree branches spread above him like fingers to grasp and take him away, far away, beyond the beyond, never to return. He did manage to scream that time, a fevered and delirious cry. His jumping, jittering eyes landed on Lightning, pale and kneeling on the ground, helped by Cid, while Ramza towered over him, sword raised.

The poison was _eating him alive_.

A lucid moment passed as he realized he was going to die. Die by the poison that coursed inside—not by a sword, he could handle swords. Not by a gun, or a spell—something he could not stop. He wept, cried for Fran, someone who could save him.

"Lightning…" eventually his lips formed her name. "_I don't want to die_. _I'm so scared._" The Vieran came without thought. Fran leaned over him, concern in her eyes. They were blue like the sky he couldn't reach. He could feel his body failing him, black clouds swirling across his eyes.

The poison was in his blood and he couldn't get it out.

"_I don't know what I'm doing anymore, or why I do it._"

Fran stroked his hair. "_Calm, Balthier. You will sleep, that is all. And then you will wake up. It will pass._"

"_Fran…_" She started.

"…_yes?_"

"_I don't want to sleep. What if I don't wake up?_"

"_I will make certain you do._"

"_Even-even after all I did? Oh, Fran—I killed you._ _You cannot claim my innocence—I have none. I killed a rose…_"

Then his head rolled back and he panted for a while, his control over his body lost to the gripping numb of the poison.

Then, he _died_.

Things went by. Things he did not understand, but did not want to know.

He saw the Madness, a skeletal figure with flesh that wriggled and screamed and reached for him trying to pull him in. The skull sobbed and the monster tried to hide—_don't look at me!_—but the hands grasped and grasped.

Then _her_ voice, calling him away, toward the surface, up, up, and up—

* * *

><p>"I'm sorry." Balthier bowed his head as he knelt before her.<p>

"I know."

"I am so sorry."

"Balthier. I know."

"I would never have dreamed of doing it. I don't know what came over me."

"Balthier—enough. I understand. Apologies won't fix _anything_. All we can do is move forward. You got the damn blood you needed—though I'll be a flandragora if I knew why you held off so long."

"All the people we met on the way were important others in this party. Believe it or not, I do discriminate about who will be my prey for the night."

At her raised eyebrow, he amended. "Most of the time. It won't happen again." He lowered his eyes again, his shoulders slumping. Lightning had a long spool of bandages wrapped around her neck, but he could see the red blood seeping through the cloth already. The blood would not stop for a while, he had explained, while tied to a tree and subjected to punches from the only semi-angry woman. Later, when they healed each other, Lightning explained it had to be for show.

He did not understand why she did not tell him to leave. Nor did he understand why, though she flinched slightly when he came near, she continued to smile and act as if nothing happened. He already had said that she could not pretend he had not been aware of what was happening. Perhaps there was something she knew that he did not. He didn't doubt it. Or perhaps she finally began to understand his plight.

Nevertheless, she remained close to him, as if they did not have all the time in the world.

As if their time would soon run out.

* * *

><p>In the morning, it seemed as if nothing had happened, though Lightning took an extraordinary amount of time getting out of her tent. Balthier wondered if she had accidentally used a Sleep spell several doses too strong on accident, but reconsidered when he remembered she had done spells for years without messing up. The tent flaps finally parted, and Lightning crawled out, looking as if the world were about to crumble around her. He immediately prowled over, dangling the necklace in front of her face. Her eyes went blank, like glass.<p>

"What is this?" she asked, glancing toward his burgeoning smirk. He prodded her gently with his foot.

"For you. I may be old, but I do remember the more important days of the year."

The Madness purred softly as well, closing her fingers around the chain as he hummed a merry little tune to himself. Balthier swiftly darted in before either the Madness or Lightning could react, stealing a kiss and backing away. "I apologize for last night. It was not the most polite date I have ever given a woman."

"It was this morning, actually," Lightning replied with a small smile. "It was past midnight when we found you." Balthier could not help but feel as if someone skewered him with their eyes when she said that. Ramza, most likely. The sky pirate smirked weakly. "But thank you," Lightning continued. "This… this means a lot to me."

He wandered away to check on Agrias, who thanked him for saving her life. Balthier secretly felt that it was his duty, as he had tossed her into the poisonous bushes in the first place, but said nothing and moved on, helping Cid dismantle his tend and load it onto a rather stubborn chocobo. The damned bird insisted on following Balthier wherever he went, knocking on his shoulder with its hard beak if he stood still for a moment. He almost ended up running to Orbornne, the chocobo hot on his heels, and perhaps that was why the trip seemed to go so quickly.

Balthier did not know why, but he thought he heard Ragnarok whispering in the back of his mind: _move on, move on_. Or perhaps it was only the sound of the Madness sighing in his sleep, rolling over and searching for a more comfortable position. The creature sighed loudly, these days. Balthier glanced back at Lightning, who walked with Ragnarok's stone in hand, engrossed in conversation with the trapped god. However, he had to turn his attention away when Agrias called his name, asking him about the strange mists around the monastery.

The mist, winking gold and green in the sun above the monastery's roof, was unmistakably Mist, and Lucavi Mist to top it all off. But, he remarked, it burns away quite quickly once the Lucavi are defeated, and has little effect on most humans.

"Except," he said emphatically, "for humans who are attuned to that particularly Lucavi."

"Like you and Adrammelech?" Ramza tilted his head. Balthier curled his lip.

"Precisely."

When Lightning suddenly moved toward him, he looked into her eyes and saw a deep well of grief, and in that one moment, it all came together. The way she had stayed so secretive and hidden, the way she began to quietly tie up loose ends—sending Ffamran away into the afterlife—she must be planning to do the same, planning to join him in the world beyond, where they could truly be together. But Balthier would be alone.

Her silence confirmed it. Ragnarok's words—_move on, move on—_came back to mind. The chained god wanted her to stay, too, wanted her to move on from the past, but she would not. Forgiving seemed to be easy for her. It was forgetting that seemed harder. The Madness whined softly in his sleep and Balthier quickly put the issue from his mind. The Madness had started to have nightmares of a place darker than the Void and equally as empty. Balthier thought it was right behind him, snapping at his heels, but when he turned, the pack chocobo only warbled at him brightly.

"It has only been a few months since we were here," Ramza said suddenly, and Balthier turned his attention back to the stone monastery tucked away against the hill. "I remember seeing you fight Delita, Lady Claire. You nearly died, or so we thought at the time. Two knights, the Thunder God, the Godless Thief and the Phoenix. We are a strange lot, aren't we?"

"As strange as it gets," Lightning spoke up for the first time in a while. It quavered, yet underneath the quaver ran a strong conviction. For once, Balthier wished that she was not as strong willed. He almost had a mind to ask her to stay, but at the same time, he realized (and the thought made the contents of his stomach curdle) that making her stay would only bring her more unhappiness—or so she would think.

He fell in line with her when they entered the monastery, the vaults below reminding him of a massive grave. As they walked, Balthier noticed Lightning's eyes glued to the floor, to her feet rooted in the earth, which floated up as she scuffed her shoes on the ground.

"Why so worried? You've been staring at the ground since we arrived. Dirt and grime is not all that interesting." He smiled gently when she lifted her eyes to meet his own. She forced a smirk.

"I guess being buried alive isn't as glamorous as one would think."

An obvious jab, referring back to the second time they'd met. How long ago it seemed to be.

"Next time you get caught by headhunters, I might as well let them hang you if you're going to tease me."

"Right." Lightning turned away.

Quiet laughter, disturbing the Mist, drew his attention. The scent of a Lucavi demon—close, so close—burned in his nose, and he wondered how he did not notice the awful rotten stench.

"It's dangerous, Light, come on." He grabbed her by the hand, but before he could pull her the short distance that separated them from the group, the ferocious roar of a lion echoed through the cavern. With a thunderous crash, Hashmal himself appeared between them. Balthier let go of Lightning's hand with a snarl, hand whipping up for Fomalhaut. An equally thunderous bang cracked into the air as he shot the beast directly between the eyes. Stinking, boiling blood splashed from the Lucavi's wound, running into its eyes, but it only laughed and turned to Lightning.

"_My goddess and master, still you do not wake. We have come too far to taste the defeat at the hands of humans and insignificant monsters. The sea goddess was wise and told me you would come. Your heart yearns for the dead._"

_Don't remind her—don't remind me—still a chance—she might stay—how can I convince her to stay?_ Balthier made to fire again, but Cid grabbed his arm. He almost howled in rage.

"Ramza!" Alma, the little girl Ramza had chased for the entire journey, ran from the shadows and almost collided with her brother. "We have to go now! That lion was a man before—the one who took me—but he's a monster now. Please, we can't stay!"

"_Silence! I'll not have you interrupt Her return, not again! Angel of Blood, that you should rise, my life I gladly take!"_ Hashmal extended his claws, then drove them into his own body.

_Blood. There is blood everywhere._ Balthier felt almost frozen as the hot liquid splashed about his shoes. A blue teardrop tinkled into the crimson deluge, rolling to a stop at Lightning's feet. She closed her eyes, as if she knew what was coming, then light blinded them all.

"_I was waiting_."

He could not see, but the voice, almost childlike, put him on edge.

"_Where have you been? I've been so lost, Claire. I could hear your voice, but…_"

"Serah, I'm sorry," Lightning's voice now. Serah—Balthier remembered that name belonged to Lightning's younger sister. He associated that name with lilies. "I didn't mean to make you worry. We're together now, and that's all that matters, right?"

Balthier's finger came to rest on the trigger of Fomalhaut. A target, he needed a target, damn this white light, he couldn't see—he wanted to tell her that it wasn't Serah. With that stench of iron and sweetness, so strong that even his stomach turned over, it couldn't be Serah. To smell like that, one would not only have to consume blood, but bathe in it.

"_You sound just like that fool._"

_Fool, fool, we are all fools_.

"Fool?" Lightning's voice turned wary. "Serah, you love him. You never called him that, you're… you're dead."

"_I am dead… but I am so very, very alive, Claire. I wanted to be like you, dearest sister! You were always so touch and calm. Oh, how I wanted to follow in your footsteps! But you fell for that pirate and changed! Come with me, Claire!_" The thing disguised as Serah begged now. "_Destroy the world! Do as you were meant to do!_"

"Stop it!" Balthier heard a slight rattle as Lightning made to grab her gunblade, but the slap of flesh on flesh told him that Serah stopped her.

"_You can't do that. You love me too much._" When Lightning tried to push away, Serah giggled, the sound perverse in her throat. "_You do._"

The light began to burn Balthier's eyes, forcing him to raise an arm before he went blind. When he could finally see again, Lightning was no longer with them.

In her place stood Ultima, the Angel of Blood. The Madness hissed in rage—for though it was Ultima, she clearly used Lightning as her host. But for the wings, the red dress, the multitude of feathers and the scorn twisting her lip, it was still Lightning, and to this, the Madness appealed.

"My rose, sweet Phoenix, you cannot have given into her guile already!" He held his hands out to her, but when she reached out to take his hand, the Holy radiating from her skin burned him before she came even close. Ultima smiled cruelly.

"_She cannot hear you, foolish one. Her soul has departed this body, and a body without an anima is just a container. Of all people, you should know this best._"

Balthier dove for cover from the blast of Holy that scorched the very stones, then drew his gun. "Yes, my dear, I know that _quite_ well."

The battle raged, but Balthier could feel himself weakening by the moment. The very air had become laced with holy magick, burning his skin away at a rate barely faster than it could regenerate. His heart, or what remained of it, bled hope. He could never hope to see Lightning again, for—a rather vicious blast of Holy knocked Agrias to the ground—Ultima would triumph, and wear Lightning's body for the rest of eternity as she subjugated the rest of mankind and spilt their blood for her wine.

"You forget though," the Madness suddenly spoke. "There is but one who owns the blood and souls of all the humes in this world, and that is me! Ffamran, we cannot stand alone in this fight!"

"Yes, but we are _not in the position to gain more allies!_" Balthier snarled.

"To the contrary. The chained god. You knew it would come to this, Ffamran," the creature whispered. Balthier shut his eyes.

It seemed almost like a fairytale ending gone horribly awry. In the end, they would both have to become monsters, and fight to the death.

"Very well."

Between fierce shots of Holy that threatened to turn him into nothing but ash in the wind, Balthier managed to get behind Ultima and snag Lightning's pack from where it had dropped to the floor, slipping behind a rock and plunging his hand within. As soon as he touched Ragnarok's stone, the god let out an immense sigh.

"_And so it starts again. It is a shame that I must put my lot with _you _of all people, mad one._"

"You have not the time to argue with me, nor the choice. You know we have been connected since that day in Pulse. Now silence yourself and get to work, or we'll never see Lightning again."

The god sighed, but soon the stone glowed, engulfing Balthier with its green light. As it faded, so did his mind. When the pirate fell to the dark, the beast Ragnarok arched his back and roared in defiance to the heavens.

* * *

><p>The Madness padded through the new world, sniffing everything he came across—tall blades of grass that dwarfed him with their height, flowers absolutely <em>everywhere<em>. Mostly roses, he noted, stopping to smell them idly and wondering what they tasted like.

"Madness?" at the sound of _her_ sweet voice, the Madness turned, perking up almost instantly. And when he saw her face, happiness flooded his own.

"_Lightning!_" he squealed, pouncing on her and purring ecstatically. Lightning laughed as she stroked him, and he purred loudly and mewled without a care for any fronts of humanity, simply soaking in feline, animal pleasure to see her. He wriggled his hindquarters happily when she ran her fingers through his hair, closing his eyes and kneading at her leg as if he were a kitten. "I knew I felt you in this world, I knew I did!"

Lightning shifted slightly to make more room for him in her lap, and he curled himself up comfortably, resting his head upon her knee and sighing with pleasure when she began to rub his round, softly furred stomach.

"You gained some weight," she noted casually. "The last time I saw you, you were all bones."

"Don't talk about that, Claire, I never wanted you to see," the Madness whined.

"It's okay," Lightning said. "Sure, it didn't look beautiful, but shouldn't you be more accepting of yourself?"

The Madness only shrugged the wing that was not pinned under his body, and closed his eyes to enjoy her petting.

"When this is all over," he said sleepily, "We will have to spend more time together. No more of this almost fifty years apart business. Balthier may not mind so much, but _I_ care, very much so."

Lightning's stroking stopped abruptly, and he looked up at her, puzzled.

"I was wrong." She closed her eyes tightly, fists clenching. "I was so wrong to deceive you, and now I've listened to you tell me how you would miss me and seen how much you want me to stick around that it's wrong for me to keep you in the dark."

"Light?" the Madness whispered, pressing himself against her stomach.

"After this is all over… I'm leaving."

No longer sleepy, the Madness sat up.

"No!" he whimpered, looking up at her with lost, silver eyes. "Please—it's… you're just going to… to Goug, or Midlight's Deep to visit the old places, right? You'll be back, won't you? Light! _Claire!_"

Lightning shook her head. "It's forever, Madness. I'm moving on."

The Madness placed his paws on her shoulders, pushing her down so that she lie beneath him in the grass. He crawled onto her chest and looked into her eyes, but he found no lies within their glacial depths.

"So you really are leaving me," the creature said softly. Then he lay his head upon her chest and cried, sides heaving as he sobbed. Lightning stroked him in a desperate attempt to make him stop, kissing the top of his head and caressing the ridges of his wings, but nothing she did could stop his tears. When he finally had cried himself into a state of exhaustion, he managed to crawl a little higher on her chest and lay his paws on her face, staring into her eyes and memorizing each line and curve of her cheek. After a moment of this, Lightning reached up and removed his paws, rubbing the fat little pads underneath them just as she had rubbed Balthier's wrists when he did the same thing.

"If… if you wish, you may eat my soul. Keep me inside of you, like you do with Fran's. You'll never be alone—I'll be with you always." Lightning swallowed hard. The Madness released a quavering laugh.

"Offering your soul to me? That takes courage, Light." He gave a broken purr, then leaned forward toward her face. She closed her eyes, as if awaiting the end, but started when all he did was lay his small lips upon her own in a kiss. When he pulled away, he sat up on her chest and wiped his tears away with a foreleg.

"I won't take it." he said. "You don't deserve to be damned again. Claire, I…I really love you, you know. I am not sad to see you go just because we will be lonely. It's that we love you, so very much."

Lightning looked up at him, startled.

"Birds don't deserve to be caged. When you fly away, I will watch you go every step of the way."

"Silly," she choked. "If I'm flying, how will I walk one step at all?"

* * *

><p>The Madness woke up alone in the unfamiliar world. A light breeze blew across the meadow like a sigh, brushing against the leaves of a cypress tree high above and the lilies that bloomed in the grass.<p>

The Madness screamed, tortured mewls and agonized shrieks rising toward the cold blue sky. He simply sat and cried, unwilling to leave his place, hoping that she would return.

"I can't leave you for a second, can I?" it seemed too good to be true; the Madness leaped into her arms and cuddled against her, purring, burying his face in her hair and neck and sobbing quietly.

"Don't _do_ that, Claire. Don't you dare try to leave when I'm not looking. I'm supposed to watch, remember? How am I supposed to do that if I'm sleeping?" She buried her face against his back, feeling his downy fur against her skin, the purr rumbling in his stomach and chest.

"I know you'll tell my story. I wouldn't have it any other way."

Soon, he began to fade from that world—his time was ending, as was hers. The Madness suddenly found himself back in the Void and, though he did not have heart, he thought something inside of him crumbled.

* * *

><p>Ragnarok was the one who committed the final deed—the deed that Balthier himself had done so many times before but now shied away from, knowing what it would mean. The god bit through her neck, and the life gushed out.<p>

It felt as if the life pouring out was his own. Everything he feared: death, solitude, the light, loss—everything. Balthier wanted to cover his eyes, will it away—it was not happening. But the Madness did not protect him this time. It was there, but it merely watched, uninterested in the blood, focused solely on Lightning. Ultima no longer lie in his arms, it was Lightning and Lightning alone.

She rested her head in the crook of his arm, growing cold. The magicks preserving her life faded with each tiny, false breath she took, and Etro—the goddess and her Door loomed over them, an ugly reminder of what was to come. Balthier wanted to scream with hurt and anger when he saw that Etro took on Lightning's appearance—that one would dare mimic an angel!

"_You have been here before, my Eternal daughter. You made the choice to walk the earth and watch your Humes pass away… But I know what your heart truly wants. The one you long for is waiting; he has found peace, but he waits._"

Lightning smiled—Balthier had to stop himself from scowling—_what about me? Why don't you care about me?_ He squeezed her shoulder, seeking her eyes, some sort of comfort, of reassurance—_tell me you will stay?_ Her eyes said 'no.' They met his, but she did not see _him_. She saw someone else; had it always been someone else?

Ragnarok, in his ghostly form, beseeched the goddess to let Lightning remain, but Etro only pressed her palms together, over her heart in a prayer-like gesture.

"_I will only do what she wants. This is her choice, Ragnarok. You cannot change that._"

His lips thinned, pressed together, and he turned to her, imploring with a feeling that words could not possibly describe. Were they needed?

"Ragnarok," Lightning breathed. The god knelt at her side before the sound faded. "You'll keep an eye on things for me, won't you?"

"_Ivalice will falter without her Phoenix, but I promise you: I will not let her fade as just a myth. Not again._" Eyes lowered, he stepped back, leaving Balthier alone with her once more. Well—not completely alone. The Madness gently raised a hand a brushed it along her cheek.

Balthier tried to draw a breath to say something. He was the leading man. He had an endless repertoire of words for every situation, but for this one. When her hand reached for his face, he took it in his own. _So cold_.

_It's getting—so dark… Please wait? I don't want to be alone._

"_I…_" Lightning's last breath drifted into the air. "_I love you._"

_Scared. I'm so scared._

"Was—" he finally managed to choke, but that was wrong. Not was. _It's not over yet. It's not over…_ "Is there no other way?"

Lightning simply sighed and shut her eyes, as if merely falling asleep.

And the Madness, who finally realized his foolishness when her ashes drifted away in the wind without leaving a trace to hold dear, began to scream.

_-Black Blood and Red Rose-_

_-Eternally Cursed-_

_**The End**  
><em>


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